


as long as you're drunk

by miya_kiyoomii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Denial of Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Linear Narrative, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miya_kiyoomii/pseuds/miya_kiyoomii
Summary: "I was telling Shouyou about this article I read last weekend. It's all facts, they conducted a study,” Inunaki said, turning around and meeting Atsumu’s eyes in the mirror. “It says you can’t sleep with one person multiple times without catching feelings. It even says if you sleep with one person five times, it means you are already in love with that person.”Saying that the world had stopped spinning would be an understatement. Atsumu felt the moment his soul left his body while he stood there in front of the mirror, his reflection gaping back at him in horror. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kiyoomi froze, phone slipping out of his hand, the object tumbling in slow motion before meeting the floor with a dull but resounding thump.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 297
Kudos: 964
Collections: SakuAtsu Fics for Midterm Procrastination, skts





	1. ATSUMU

**Author's Note:**

> First hq fic ever. NOT BETA READ. English not my 1st language. Ignore the errors. Thank you.

* * *

These past months had been good to Atsumu. 

  
He racked up two endorsement deals. He wanted to endorse the top sportswear apparel brand but Bokuto and Hoshiumi bagged that one. He wanted to endorse the top fitness apparel but the brand had chosen Ushijima. Instead, he got one for a shampoo brand that could heal bleach-damaged hair, at least that was what they'd promised the consumers and another one for a toothpaste brand.

  
Then he’d managed to score three dumps under Suna’s nose last time they played the Raijin. Bokuto acknowledged his setting skills twice this week without mentioning Akaashi. Even Meian had been smiling at him more frequently (that was only because Atsumu hadn't been in trouble). (That meant he hadn't been photographed pissed drunk with models or sports channel courtside reporters clinging to his arm left and right since June). 

  
He had stayed out of trouble for a record-breaking three months. 

  
Atsumu tilted his head up, face directly under the showerhead as he pondered about the recent happenings in his life. He felt like everything was falling into place and his brain was at rest most of the time. He’d been feeling great these past months, too great it was kinda suspicious. Sometimes he couldn't help but expect the devil to sneak up on him right when he was at his happiest and declare ‘Atsumu, you've been too chill, it’s time we blow things up, lemme sprinkle anxiety dust on your head’. 

  
He cut the water and shook his head, trying to get rid of the negativity before they could foster and take residence in his brain. Nothing too bad was going to happen, alright. Growing up with a twin, and living with that twin for 18 years had already given him enough suffering. This peace of mind, this was the Universe’s way to make up to him. Or maybe this was caused by the alignment of the planets right before summer solstice a couple of months ago or some other kind of cosmic shit that had brought him luck. Whatever.

  
As he was toweling his hair, all his deep thoughts started to leave his mind. It was always like this. Warm showers would always get him in a pensive mood. He pulled his boxer shorts on, successfully covering the love marks on his hip, and stepped out of the shower room leaving his negative thoughts and giving them no choice but to go down the shower drain.

  
He entered the locker room smiling from ear to ear and whistling the tune of The Beatles’ Here comes the sun. Bokuto was throwing a shirt over his head, one hand pulling the hem in place and one hand already grabbing his duffel bag while Kiyoomi was seated on the bench in front of his locker, scrolling on his phone. Bokuto waved at them, yelling see you tomorrow before literally skipping out of the room. They could still hear Bokuto's overly excited 'Keijiiiiiii' even when the latter was already outside the gym.

  
"He's so loud," Kiyoomi muttered to which Atsumu just chuckled. He remembered he scored more service aces than Omi today. Atsumu made a mental note to mention it later just so he could get a reaction out of the spiker. 

  
He opened his locker and bent his knees a little so he could see his reflection on the small mirror behind his locker door. 

  
“- don’t you think that’s a big word, Inunaki-san? I mean, love? People have sex all the time with no strings or feelings attached.” he heard Hinata say as he and Inunaki appeared in the doorway.

  
Atsumu glanced to his side and saw Inunaki coming in but stopping just beside the door to lean on the door frame. Atsumu pulled his focus back to the mirror, baring his teeth.

  
“It is a big word but believe me. I’ve read an article about it.” Inunaki said a matter of factly.

  
Atsumu’s teeth were as white as the clouds on a summer day, his skin was glowing and his hair was looking kinda healthy despite getting bleached a week ago. (This was because he started using a different brand of leave-in conditioner. It wasn't the shampoo. He never used the shampoo.) He ran his fingers through his hair and noticed Hinata gesturing to him behind his reflection on the mirror.

  
“Atsumu-san sleeps with people all the time but I don't see him falling in love with any of them.” 

  
“Yeah but I doubt Atsumu sleeps with one person five times consecutively.” 

  
“Hang on,” Atsumu interrupted, squeezing some leave-in conditioner on his palm. “You can use me as an example but at least gimme context clues, you know,” he said while rubbing his hands together before brushing his fingers through his hair. “What are we talking about?”

  
Inunaki stepped inside and pulled a towel from his locker. “I was telling Shouyou about this article I read last weekend. It was all facts, they conducted a study,” he said, turning around and meeting Atsumu’s eyes in the mirror. “It says you can’t sleep with one person multiple times without catching feelings. It even says if you sleep with one person five times, it means you are already in love with that person.” 

  
Saying that the world had stopped spinning would be an understatement. Atsumu felt the moment his soul left his body while he stood there in front of the mirror, knees slightly bent, his reflection gaping back at him in horror. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kiyoomi froze, phone slipping out of his hand, the object tumbling in slow motion before meeting the floor with a dull but resounding thump.

* * *

Atsumu walked with his head down, looking at his feet- left, right, left, right- as if they were the most interesting thing ever. He liked this pair of trainers, just plain black with white laces. His feet seemed like they were racing each other, it kinda reminded him of himself and Samu. Tip, tap, tip, tap- that was how they were supposed to sound, right? So why the fuck did his footsteps sound like _love, love, love, love_ in Inunaki’s voice?

  
He grunted and snapped his head straight forward. Kiyoomi was walking ahead of him half a block away. Atsumu wondered what Kiyoomi’s footsteps sounded like. Was he having auditory hallucinations like him? Atsumu jogged, closing the distance between them. 

  
“Omi,” he started when he caught up to the spiker. 

  
“No, no, no.” Kiyoomi shook his head aggressively. “Shut up.” 

  
He glanced sideways, one hand on his chest. “I haven’t even said anything yet! So rude, Omi!” he complained dramatically but Kiyoomi didn’t even look at him.

  
Without missing a beat, Kiyoomi retorted, “Because 80% of the stuff that comes out of your mouth is bullshit. Goodbye.” 

  
Kiyoomi turned left. Atsumu stopped and stood there in the corner street, staring at the back of Kiyoomi’s head. He's acting weird, Atsumu thought. He’s walking like a robot. Is he okay?

  
“Omi, that’s not the way home.” he stage whispered. “Where the fuck are you going?” Atsumu asked, taking one step left.

  
“Store down the street. Don’t follow me.”

  
*

An old american sitcom was on, Atsumu was staring blankly at the tv screen. He had no idea what was going on. He got home two and a half hours ago. He remembered making tea and replying to his mother’s texts about his and Samu’s birthday three whole weeks from now. He remembered changing clothes and watering his marble queen pothos as well as the snake plant by the balcony door (he’d stolen those plants from Kiyoomi). What he couldn't remember though was drinking the tea. He stood up and reached the kitchen in five long strides, picking up his mug and chugging the disgustingly cold tea.

  
Pretending that the bitterness of the tea gave him enough courage, he decided to face his predicament eyeball to eyeball. He grabbed Kiyoomi’s keys, wore his hallway slippers, and marched out of his apartment. He pranced along the hallway, passing by Hinata’s and Bokuto's doors, spinning the keychain in his forefinger, acting like he was fine and peachy, acting like the last brain cell left in his brain was not having a seizure.

  
He paused in front of Kiyoomi’s door and checked the hallway, making sure no one was there before getting in using Kiyoomi’s spare key that he’d jovially stolen a few weeks ago. It earned him a smack in the head the first time he used it. The smack hurt but Kiyoomi didn’t confiscate the key so Atsumu considered it a win.

  
“Omi?” he called after noticing the grocery bags above the shoe cabinet in the genkan. He changed into Kiyoomi's spare indoor slippers and peeked inside the bags on his way inside. The bags were full of cleaning wipes. It was kinda good knowing Kiyoomi probably was stress-buying stuff while he was spacing out at home. At least Atsumu could confirm that they were both having some kind of a mental meltdown today.

  
Kiyoomi hadn't responded but Atsumu invited himself in any way. He saw Kiyoomi in the kitchen, slouched in a chair that was pulled in front of the fridge. He walked past the living room and upon a closer look, Kiyoomi seemed to be staring at a piece of paper on the fridge door held in place by the onigiri Miya magnet Atsumu had stolen from Sunarin.

  
“Omi,” he stood beside Kiyoomi and squinted at the paper. First thing he noticed was the bad handwriting. Second, it was a bulleted list of something. Third, every bullet contained a date and some kind of a place, maybe? If you considered the ‘backseat of my car’ a place. “What’s this, Omi?” he asked, thumb pointing at it.

  
Kiyoomi pulled a pen out of nowhere and started to tick mark every line, counting. “One, two, three... seven, eight, nine, ten.” he paused and inhaled audibly before continuing. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen.” Kiyoomi exhaled, face blank as he ticked the last one.

  
Atsumu scrunched his face in confusion, fixing his eyes back to the paper. He read the first line once, twice, three times. **_1st week of June, apt 204._ **Apartment 204 was Kiyoomi’s. His eyes caught the number 201, which was the number of his unit. He was in the process of figuring out the other places written were hotel names when Kiyoomi quietly let out a set of cuss words.

  
“Atsumu, we had sex too many times.”

* * *

13 times.

  
They had sex 13 times since the party last June.

  
“13,” Atsumu uttered nervously, his soul starting to leave his body for the second time that day. “That’s my jersey number,” he said uselessly, forcing a smile as looked back at Kiyoomi.

  
The spiker was glaring at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyes were almost crossed because Atsumu was close. “This is your fault.” 

  
Atsumu stepped back, pointing at himself. “Why is it my fault?” he asked before gesturing wildly at the bulleted list. “You initiated half of that.”

  
Kiyoomi brought both his hands up to cover his face, shaking his head and mumbling something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s not true.’

  
What Inunaki said earlier stupefied Atsumu to the bones but Kiyoomi was still shaking his head while making pained animal noises. The spiker was handling the situation worse than him. Atsumu was supposed to malfunction hours ago but he managed to postpone it just so he could freak out with Kiyoomi but seeing him right now, Atsumu figured he should play it down.

  
"Omi, why are you even freaking out? Are you in love with me or something?" he asked in a playful but careful tone.

  
Kiyoomi dropped his hands, head tilting up, facing Atsumu with a horrified and disgusted look. "Of course not! You're the most insufferable asshole I know. I'm not in love with you."

  
Atsumu was not offended by that. It'd take so much to offend him. Hearing the word 'most' to describe him, it wouldn't matter what adjective people put after that word, it'd all sound like a compliment.

  
"And you're the coldest, meanest asshole I know. I'm not in love with you, either. Besides," he paused and lightly flicked the onigiri Miya magnet, "we were drunk during most of these."

  
Kiyoomi straightened up, eyes growing wider as he picked up his pen, the ballpoint hovering over the paper. Atsumu could almost see a bulb lighting up above his head.

  
Atsumu watched as Kiyoomi ticked the air with his pen before drawing his attention back to the paper. Atsumu would admit, that was one detailed list. "Omi, I am impressed you managed to make an actual list. Were you keeping track?" he teased and the way Kiyoomi frowned at him made him want to rile him up a little more.

  
"Not everyone has a poor memory like you, Atsumu." the spiker said, lifting his right leg and propping his foot on the chair. He rested his elbow on his knee as he continued to draw lines in the air. Atsumu saw a tiny space on the chair beside Kiyoomi's foot and thought he'd definitely fit half of his ass there so he sat down and wiggled until he got enough bum space. Kiyoomi almost fell if Atsumu hadn't grabbed the front of his shirt. "Stupid! Get your own chair!" Kiyoomi snarled, digging his elbow into Atsumu’s neck.

  
"We fit in just fine, Omi. Stop being violent for once!" he dismissed while circling a hand around Kiyoomi's inner arm. 

  
Kiyoomi had gotten comfortable touching Atsumu a long time ago but nobody knew about it. It was roughly six, seven months ago, his only witness was the walls in this apartment, though Motoya and Kiyoomi’s sister had a teenie tiny glimpse of it.

  
Valentine's day, it started with a shove in the back when Atsumu refused to leave after giving Kiyoomi some chocolate cookies he’d received from his fan club. On white day, it upgraded to a flick on the forehead when Atsumu fell asleep on the living room floor (he was not allowed to sit on the couch that time) after their horror movie marathon. Yes, they had a horror movie marathon on white day because fuck romance. Samu proposed to Sunarin, and Sunarin was stupid enough to say yes. That meant Samu’d get married first and it weirdly felt like a defeat, Atsumu looked pitiful enough that Kiyoomi had let him inside his apartment.

  
He had no idea what kind of heroics he’d done in his past life to get invited to dinner a week after that. Or maybe he was just in the right place at the right time when he bumped into Kiyoomi on the stairs. He was on his way back to his apartment after a canceled blind date (he didn't know it was a blind date, he thought he was getting dinner with his mother) his mom had set him up (because she was worried Atsumu would die single. Fuck Samu. Fuck Sunarin.) After telling his mom that he was seeing someone, which was a big fat lie, the date was canceled last minute. He ranted about it to Kiyoomi right in the middle of the stairs, but the latter just stared at him with a face so blank and asked him if he wanted to grab dinner with him.

  
He told Kiyoomi that if he wanted to go on a dinner date with him that bad, he should’ve just said so, to which the latter just responded with pure silence, pretending Atsumu didn’t exist. 

  
It was not a date, of course, it wasn’t. Because Motoya had been there at the restaurant, waiting for them and he was not alone. He was with a woman that looked a lot like Kiyoomi. She introduced herself as Kiyoomi’s older sister, he was still processing that information while wiping Kiyoomi’s seat when the latter left for the restroom. Right when his brain had caught up with the situation, he sat down and faced Kiyoomi’s sister sporting his friendliest smile ever, ready to run the flow of conversation that night with the motive of collecting information about Kiyoomi’s embarrassing moments for future blackmailing purposes. But he was thrown for a loop when he learned that it was actually Kiyoomi’s birthday. Atsumu got more than a hundred unread messages in the jackals' group chat that morning which he’d purposely ignored but he got a glimpse of the conversation, it was about a team dinner next weekend. It must've been for Kiyoomi’s birthday.

  
At first, he’d thought about what to give Kiyoomi, then his mind started to question what he was doing there with Kiyoomi’s sister and cousin. It seemed like a family affair. He was too busy overthinking it that he began to space out, a gentle slap was what brought him back to the present. Kiyoomi had slapped him on the face. For a split second, Kiyoomi’s entire palm was on Atsumu’s face. He touched Atsumu’s face.

  
It was a slap but the point was, as time passed by, Kiyoomi felt more and more comfortable touching Atsumu. It had a pattern, though. Physical violence.

  
Seven months and thirteen sexual intercourse later, Kiyoomi had him in a chokehold leaving Atsumu no other choice but to beg for his life. “I can’t breathe Omi, fuck, let go, Omi, please, please, please.” 

  
He stood up and gasped comically when he was released which made Kiyoomi snort while pushing him away. Instead of getting another chair, he leaned just behind Kiyoomi, draping his arms over the spiker’s shoulders, his chin propped over his head. 

  
“You were having a eureka moment a while ago, Omi-omi. What’s it about?”

  
Kiyoomi pouted and hummed, poking his bottom lip with the end of his pen. “I know we’ve established that we are not in love with each other but what Inunaki said earlier bothers me, add the fact that we had sex more than ten times. But you’re right. We were drunk, so more than half of this doesn't count. What do you think?” Kiyoomi looked up at him, mouth slightly open and Atsumu had the urge to lean down and stick his tongue inside that warm mouth but the angle was weird, it'd impossible to do that without accidentally breaking Kiyoomi’s neck.

  
“I think you’re right,” he said after clearing his throat awkwardly. Why was he even having dirty thoughts, they’d had sex just 24 hours ago. “Like this one, Omi.” he pointed at the second bullet on the list. “6/21? Twenty-first of June? What even happened that night?”

  
“It was Shouyou’s birthday.” Kiyoomi started. “After our first,” he pointed at the first bullet, “you know, we swore we won't do it again but three weeks later, it was Shoyou’s birthday, we got drunk, we accidentally had sex.”

  
“Exactly. It was an accident.” Atsumu agreed.

  
Sakusa Kiyoomi was never the kind of person who got drunk on a weekly basis. Once a month, maybe. Atsumu remembered how Kiyoomi was that night. He was really drunk and flirty. Who was Atsumu to deny the spiker’s advances? Plus Kiyoomi was wearing a dark floral button up with two buttons undone from the collar and his dark curls, for god’s sake, it was the curls.

  
“We were drunk. This doesn’t count.” Kiyoomi said with finality, drawing a tiny X over the bullet. “And this one?”

  
“6/23? Yeah, I remember..” Two days after Shoyou’s birthday, Atsumu had decided to talk to Kiyoomi. He'd planned to tell Kiyoomi that they shouldn’t have crossed the line and that he deeply prioritized team harmony over anything else. He was supposed to tell Kiyoomi that what had happened between them was a lapse of judgment on both parties, “I showed up to your doorstep,” but Kiyoomi had opened the door fresh out of the shower and wearing only a robe, and “I was drunk,” so the alcohol and his human instinct were to blame when he threw Kiyoomi over his shoulder and carried him to the bedroom. “I was drunk so, that, too, doesn’t count.”

  
Kiyoomi nodded, “Yep. It doesn’t count,” another X was drawn over a bullet. 

  
The 4th time, last week of June, had happened in Kiyoomi’s apartment. Upon recalling how the night had gone down, Atsumu couldn’t help but grab a handful of Kiyoomi's hair, tugging it playfully. "You remember that night, Omi? You were madly drunk!"

  
"Yeah, yeah." Kiyoomi muttered, "I can't even remember what happened, so this doesn't count."

  
"And I wasn't able to finish that night!" Atsumu announced offhandedly. "Definitely shouldn't count."

  
Kiyoomi slowly turned around, one eyebrow raised, face crumpled in confusion, looking straight up at Atsumu. "What do you mean you didn't finish?" he inquired and he was using his interrogating tone which immediately switched Atsumu's defensive mode on.

  
"I didn't finish. Literally." he repeated, stepping back and gesturing to his crotch. "I.." he paused, hands doing the jerking motion before opening his hand, palm up and flapping it everywhere, which was supposed to describe him cumming, spilling sperm in all directions. "I wasn't able to. I couldn't." 

  
Kiyoomi was sporting his most distorted facial expression ever. "Huh???" Then his eyes traveled down to Atsumu's crotch, his expression changing from confused to shocked to concerned. Extremely concerned. "WHY?"

  
"Wha—" Atsumu stammered, "No, no, no." he quickly clarified. "My dick is fine, Omi. I wasn't able to finish because you literally fell asleep. You were drunk, right? You finished first, I let you ride it out, then I stopped for one moment then I asked you if I can go on, you didn't respond. You fell asleep literally after cumming. I was balls deep inside you and you started to snore—" 

  
"I do nOT SNORE." Kiyoomi interrupted, scandalized.

  
"You do, Omi."

  
"I don't." Kiyoomi argued.

  
"You do when you're drunk."

  
"That's not true."

  
"I am going to collect evidence next time."

  
"Whatever." the spiker grumbled. "You should've just jerked off instead of complaining about it after three months."

  
"I wAS NOT complaining, Omi." Atsumu said. "It's just.. you were dead asleep and you looked like a cherub out of a renaissance painting and my heartbeat was like, badum badum badum like a long ass drum roll, but it was so wholesome, then I decided to just call it a nig—"

  
"Hang on. WHY did your heart go badum badum? First of all, that's a weird sound. Second of all, are you sure you're not in love with me, Miya?"

  
"Hey, hey," Atsumu whined, taking offense when he was suddenly addressed by his surname. "I am not. I swear. My heart just does that sometimes. Like sometimes when I hold more than one second eye contact with Akaashi. I know he's married to Bokkun but he's just so attractive, c'mon." he said and when Kiyoomi didn't react, he continued to ramble on, "and sometimes when Shouyou smiles at me–"

  
"Anyway," Kiyoomi interrupted, expression unreadable. He turned back to the paper, voiding the last week of June, Apt 204. "I still think you should've just jerked off."

  
"Nah. It didn't feel right, Omi. It wouldn't feel consensual. I'm all about consent, you know." he said, and Kiyoomi was quiet for a while but eventually bobbed his head in affirmation.

  
They continued voiding items until they arrived at the 8th sexual encounter- 2nd week of August, Apt 204. They both kept quiet, probably thinking of ways to also rule this one out but to no avail.

  
“We were sober.”

  
“We were.”

  
If someone asked Atsumu how it started, he would not be able to give a detailed answer. He remembered coming over. One second they were watching the late-night news, the next second they were kissing and things escalated quickly after that.

  
“You were complaining about Kita not responding to your messages, and I couldn’t pay attention because your breath smelled strongly of mint. I definitely initiated this one.” Kiyoomi admitted, seeming somewhat shy before immediately adding, “But it takes two to tango,” to which Atsumu responded with a nod and a close-lipped smile. Atsumu couldn’t argue with that. After all, he’d been the first to take his pants off.

  
They proceeded to the next one, the 9th time, it happened in the backseat of Kiyoomi’s car. They didn’t say a word about this one. The only sound in the apartment was the slide of a pen on paper, drawing one big X. The 10th time was also voided. The 11th time, however...

  
“We were drunk on adrenaline.”

  
Atsumu chuckled, leaning down to nuzzle against Kiyoomi’s ear.

  
The 11th time was after their friendly match against the Raijin where he’d scored three dumps on Sunarin while Kiyoomi scored service aces on Motoya. They roomed together in the hotel as always, and they’d agreed to burn excess energy first before meeting up with the team to get drinks.

  
“That one counts, Kiyoomi.”

  
The spiker just made a face, elbowing him away. 

  
The 12th time which happened just last Saturday was voided, they were both drunk.

  
The 13th time which happened last night was too recent, Atsumu had fresh love marks on his hip and he sure sucked some on Kiyoomi’s chest, at least seven of them. It deadass looked like Ursa Minor if viewed in a correct angle, just a little bit regrouped but it'd pass as a constellation still.

  
"Last night was..." Kiyoomi was seated on the chair and Atsumu was standing behind him, arms draped again on Kiyoomi's shoulder. Atsumu tilted his head to see Kiyoomi’s face as he waited for him to continue.

  
But Kiyoomi didn’t finish his sentence which prompted Atsumu to rewind what had happened yesterday night. They'd gone home after practice, Atsumu declined Hinata's dinner invitation to Onigiri Miya (because he was pretty sure he still had some in his fridge), and instead, he had once again wheedled his way to free dinner in Kiyoomi’s apartment. Kiyoomi had cooked that bland Korean soup again probably because he knew that Atsumu lowkey had the taste buds of a seven-year-old, thinking the bland, bland soup would make Atsumu want to evacuate, not knowing Atsumu had ordered food upon getting a whiff of that bland soup. After dinner, he'd volunteered to vacuum Kiyoomi’s bedroom while the latter was doing the dishes. Then, he went to his apartment to take a quick shower before coming back to Kiyoomi’s. Atsumu had made himself comfortable in the living room, as usual, then Kiyoomi, also fresh from the shower, had joined him. The next thing they knew, they were wrestling on the sofa. They had been sober but the air was too thick, the tension almost electric and Atsumu wouldn't be able to sleep, deadass would literally just die if he hadn't had Kiyoomi that night. 

  
"Last night was kinda weird, Omi." he said. It had been so fucking weird because the thirst he had felt, the type that made him want to crawl out of his skin, he was supposed to feel that only when he was drunk. "So weird."

  
Kiyoomi didn't agree nor disagree. There was a pause and they let it stretch too long until it became awkward and unbearable. Kiyoomi shifted on the chair. "Last night counts," he said before tapping the pen on the paper, the tip pointing at the first line. "How about this?"

 **1st week of June, Apt 204.** That was when and where it all started. Drunk conversations, impromptu dance off in the car park, almost running a red light and pancakes at 3 in the morning.

  
They looked at each other for one quick second, they didn't let the moment drag again, otherwise, they'd both have detailed flashbacks of that one summer night. Just one second before they both nodded, coming to an agreement that even though they had been slightly drunk, that one summer night should undoubtedly count.

  
They'd had sex 13 times and looking at the list now, it seemed only 4 of that were valid. 

  
"As long as we don't do it again," Kiyoomi mumbled.

  
"As long as we don't do it again." Atsumu repeated and painted a smile on his face to show his relief. 

* * *

  * **1st week of June, Apt 204**
  * **×** 6/21, Apt 201 (shouyou's birthday, both drunk)
  * **×** 6/23, Apt 204 (drunk Atsumu)
  * **×** Last week of June, Apt 204 (drunk Kiyoomi)
  * **×** 2nd week of July, Apt 204 (drunk Atsumu)
  * **×** 3rd week of July, Tokyo, Excel hotel - hornets (both drunk)
  * **×** 7/30, Apt 201 - motoyas - (motoya's birthday, drunk Kiyoomi)
  * **2nd week of August, Apt 204 (it just kinda happened)**
  * **×** 2 days after the last one, backseat of my car (both drunk)
  * **×** Last week of August, Apt 201 - (drunk Atsumu)
  * **9/3, Apt 201 - (after the game x Raijin)**
  * **×** Last Saturday, Apt 201 - (both drunk)
  * **YESTERDAY 9/12, Apt 204**



* * *

As soon as the stupid list was out of the way, they tried to act like everything was good. Atsumu offered to cook, Kiyoomi settled on a chair and watched him. Atsumu talked Kiyoomi’s ears off, as always. He jumped from one topic to another, too eager to fill the silence and forgetting what he was talking about as soon as the words left his mouth, while Kiyoomi only responded with a grunt and occasional hums. Kiyoomi was busy watching him, his eyes were either on Atsumu's face or hands until they finished dinner, until they were done with the dishes. 

  
Atsumu never looked at Kiyoomi once. He kept his eyes down and wondered when he had stopped being upfront about anything. It wasn't like he was scared. He was not scared of Kiyoomi. What was Omi gonna do? Make him wash his hands twice? 

  
But there was just something about how Kiyoomi was scrutinizing him right now. It somehow felt like they were back to square one when Atsumu constantly felt like Kiyoomi wanted to shove him under a microscope but this time, he wasn't looking for germs. He was looking for something else. 

  
"As long as we don't do it again." It wasn't a voice but merely just an echo in his head, accompanied by a ghost of a cold slap on the face.

  
This day started off great and was supposed to end with some late-night news and maybe a kiss goodnight had Inunaki never opened his big mouth.

  
Though if he was being completely honest, he'd say it was about time. After thirteen euphoric highs, it was about time for the dumbfounding lows. Of course.

  
He was on his way out when he halted. He turned around and braved one look at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi was about to enter his bedroom when he noticed Atsumu was standing still. Their eyes met and for a while, nobody dared to look away. Zero words, they just looked at each other long enough to confirm that they were on the same page.

  
They were not ready to call it quits.

  
"Good night, Omi."

  
"Good night, Atsumu."

* * *


	2. ATSUMU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again we don't have beta reader so suffer the grammar with me.

* * *

Atsumu arrived at the gym ten minutes earlier than usual. He tried to at least mumble a ‘good morning’ when he bumped into Meian in the hallway but it just sounded like a keyboard smash so they settled with a low five and a nod.

Too early for pleasantries. 

  
He rounded the corner just in time to see Inunaki coming out of the locker room, eyes wide open and already smiling pleasantly at Atsumu. The little shit. It was as if he knew he had rattled two people’s peace yesterday with just a couple of words. 

  
“Good morning!”

  
There was something about Inunaki’s enunciation that annoyed Atsumu but he ignored it for now. He returned the greeting without looking. Atsumu could be such a bitch in the morning but they'd understand.

  
The door to the lockers was left ajar, he peeked inside first and upon seeing Kiyoomi was alone, he knocked on the door frame to announce his presence before pushing the door wide open.

  
"I knew it." Atsumu sighed, closing the door and leaning against it. "I knew you'd start ghosting me. But lemme just say, Omi, I didn't know you're the kind to just disappear when things start to get difficult." he clutched the strap of his duffel bag and faked a sob for theatrics.

  
The spiker turned his back to Atsumu, pulling his t-shirt off and giving him a front-row view of back muscles moving underneath pale skin. That was something he'd never get to touch again.

  
"Ghosting," Kiyoomi repeated, bored and uninterested. He was so used to Atsumu's dramatics by now. "You were in my apartment literally 10 hours ago," he said, turning around, yellow shirt already pulled over his chest. Atsumu pouted in disappointment. He'd forced himself to arrive early in the hopes of getting a glimpse of his Ursa Minor. "Where did you learn that word?"

  
Atsumu slumped on the bench, dropping his bag beside him. "My fans said I've been ghosting them. I opened twitter last night and apparently, they're throwing a search party tomorrow."

  
"Sounds fun." Kiyoomi huffed sarcastically as he changed shoes.

  
Sighing, he whipped out his phone and checked his Instagram. The last photo had been posted for quite a while now. He just needed to upload one today to pacify his fans. "Mind taking a photo of me, Omi?" he asked, handing his phone to the spiker.

  
Kiyoomi exhaled loudly but didn't make any more fuss before taking his phone. Atsumu licked his bottom lip, fixing his posture, squaring his shoulders, and finally grinned at the camera but Kiyoomi’s twitching eyebrows got his attention. Atsumu raised his own to ask what was wrong. Kiyoomi moved towards him and ran his finger through his hair, moving his bangs away from his forehead. It'd look cute for the onlookers, sweet even, if only Kiyoomi wasn't doing it a little too harshly, stroking his hair like a rake over dry land. Had Atsumu's fringe personally offended him at some point?

  
As soon as he was satisfied with Atsumu’s hairdo, he stepped back and angled the camera to Atsumu's face. He didn't count, no cue, he just immediately snapped a photo and dropped the phone on Atsumu's lap. 

  
"Gee." Atsumu snorted. "Thanks." he put the phone away and took off his shirt.

  
"Atsumu." 

  
He hummed while discarding his shirt away into his locker. "Yeah?"

  
"Do you wanna come with me tomorrow? I'm driving to Hirakata."

  
Atsumu was about to push his joggers down but his hands toppled over the waistband. Kiyoomi had driven them once to Hirakata for one specific purpose and he never expected he'd get invited to go there again.

  
"Why?" Atsumu asked, confused.

  
Kiyoomi shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. "I think we should get tested again."

  
"Why?" Atsumu asked, still confused. "We already did it last June. I'm clean. We're clean." he leaned against the lockers, ignoring the cold metal pressing on his bare arm. "I never slept with anyone else since." 

  
"I know but," the spiker dragged his eyes away for a moment, tapping his foot on the floor. "Sooner or later you're gonna sleep around again and in case you catch something, I want nothing to do with it."

  
Atsumu's eyebrows gradually soared upward, he never bothered hiding his discomposure. First of all, it wasn't like he didn't know how to practice safe sex. Second of all, he never even thought about sleeping around again. That one gave him mental images and for once, they never looked appealing. He was about to tell Kiyoomi those two things when they felt Bokuto barreling through the hallways. They couldn't see him yet, couldn't hear him either but they just knew when Bokuto was already in the building. They just knew. So Atsumu kept his mouth shut for now.

  
Kiyoomi grabbed his water bottle.

  
"Omi, we'll talk later, alright?" 

  
Kiyoomi was already moving, back facing him. "Okay." He was out the door and two seconds later, Bokuto came rushing in, his presence as strong as a bulldozer. 

  
"Good morning, Tsum-tsum!"

* * *

  
During warm-ups, Bokuto gave him a rundown of what they needed to be done before he and Akaashi could move into their bungalow house a few kilometers outside the city. It was truly an interesting topic, Akaashi wanting to raise a dog and all that shit but Atsumu's mind wandered off to Hirakata. Kiyoomi had introduced the Doctor as a family friend. They drove there for Kiyoomi's peace of mind and 'confidentiality' but the Doctor looked like he'd immediately tattle once they were gone. His face reminded him of Kuroo and on the car ride home, he'd openly told Kiyoomi that. It had earned him a chuckle and a pinch in the rib. 

  
When practice was over Atsumu quickly made his way to the showers. He took his time under the cold water and allowed himself to be melodramatic for several minutes. He thought about how sad it was to not be able to sleep with Kiyoomi anymore. He was sad because he never expected it to be over. Not that he expected it to last forever but. It was just that, Kiyoomi was there, two doors away. Attractive and willing. Sometimes mean but very caring. Dark curls, smart mouth, gentle hands, warm touches. Not to mention he had the most beautiful orgasm face, ever. Right on cue, his brain instantly supplied a bunch of insanely appealing images, sending a series of tiny static shocks in his abdomen.

  
He was supposed to be in a sentimental mood, not horny. 

  
He cut the water, shook his head, and thought about what to eat for dinner instead. “Goddamnn,” he cursed calmly when the images of Kiyoomi bounced back in his head.

  
-

**_Don't bother w dinner_ **

**_I'm bringing food_ **

  
He sent the text before stepping inside Onigiri Miya, eyes scanning the counter and proceeding to the back office when he didn’t catch sight of his brother. He moved fast but not fast enough, he still plucked unwanted attention here and there, hearing a chorus of his name when he was closing the door. It was okay to ignore them now. He’d make up to them later.

  
There was no Samu but there was Suna in the room, eating potato chips, eyes on the laptop probably scrolling through TikTok, feet propped on the office table.

  
“Where’s Samu?”

  
Suna dropped one foot on the floor so he could bend and reach the laptop on the table, putting whatever was playing there on pause. “Hi,” he said as he leaned back against the chair again, finally looking up. 

  
“Hi. Where’s Samu?” he asked again as he settled in the chair in front of Suna. He reached for the chips but changed his mind right away. If he wanted to eat it, he’d have to wash his hands first and he was not about to get up to do that. He was sitting in one very comfy chair.

  
“Outside. Taking a breather.” Suna snorted, shaking his head. “He’s so done with your fans.” 

  
“What did they do this time?” Atsumu pulled his phone out, remembering that he never got to post the photo Kiyoomi had taken that morning. He had two messages, one plain _**okay**_ from Kiyoomi and **_post something please_** from their PR manager. He left them on read and opened his Instagram app.

  
“Not only they wanted to take a photo with him, they also asked him to do the jackals pose. He rawr-ed five times today before he finally went hiding.”

  
Atsumu was cracking up at his brother’s misery but he paused mid-laugh when he saw the last photo in his camera roll. He stared at the photo of him while Rintarou talked about the schedule of the league. 

The schedule wasn’t finalized and it wasn’t even posted yet on the official website but he’d known Sunarin for almost a decade now, he’d stopped questioning how the latter acquired data a long time ago. He nodded and made faces as Suna blabbed about the politics in volleyball association but his eyes darted to his phone from time to time until he downright gave up listening to Suna to figure out what was wrong in his photo because there was just something about his face that didn’t sit right with him. 

  
Atsumu had this ability to spot camera lenses from a mile away and he’d always, always manage to smile or at least school his face from frowning to neutral before the lenses snapped. The photo Kiyoomi had taken this morning, though he looked good, of course, but it was such a candid shot he wasn’t aware he looked like that sometimes, or at all. He looked different than usual but the strange part was, it looked weirdly familiar. Too familiar.

He cropped the photo because nobody had to know Bokuto had a poster-size picture of Akaashi taped on his locker door. He chose a filter and he got stranded again as he thought about what to write in the caption. He clicked the photo again and stared at it and again, wondered why he looked different but very familiar. 

  
He couldn't pinpoint what kind of expression he wore in the picture. He kinda looked like an idiot. A good looking idiot.

  
Windswept hair, his face was tilted up, his mouth was slightly open, and his eyes... His eyes–

  
“Who let this guy in here?"

  
Atsumu locked his phone and looked up at Osamu who was stepping in from the back door. "Miss you, too."

  
"Shut up. I hate you." Samu glared at him while Suna went back to TikTok, a dance track playing on repeat. "Do you know how fucking tired I am?" he asked, sitting down on the table beside Suna's feet and crossing his legs, swiftly and purposely kicking Atsumu's knee in the process.

  
"Ugh! Damn it, Samu." Atsumu dusted his pants where Samu's shoe had just brushed while making a mental note to not touch his skin particularly his face, and to wash his hands as soon as possible. 

  
"Why are you here? Does our twin connection still work? Did you hear my thoughts today? I was plotting your death."

  
"You're always plotting my death." Atsumu looked up, holding his brother’s gaze and plastering a sweet smile. "I need you to make six fatty tuna and a dozen of umeboshi onigiri."

  
"A dozen of that, again?" Samu rolled his eyes while Suna's left eyebrow flew up but attention never leaving the screen of the laptop. "And couldn't you just ordered outside like how you were supposed to—"

  
"I need it to be very clean—"

  
"My employees are fucking clean—"

  
"Yeah but I'm sharing that with Omi." he stated, like that alone would make sense but Suna's right brow shot up, too, so he added "And Bokkun. And Shouyou." in a rush. 

  
Samu squinted at him and it was stupid because he was just a meter away. "Hinata was here two days ago."

  
Atsumu clapped twice. He didn't know why he did that but he was feeling cornered, he needed to send Samu out. "Just go and make my food so I can leaveeeeee." 

  
The idea of having Atsumu gone as soon as possible pushed Samu up. "Fine. But you better do a sufficient amount of fan service out there," he said, pointing at the door. "and herd them away from here." he made his way to the door, turning around and doing the jackals pose. "I hate this so much. What even is this? This is stupid."

  
Atsumu just chuckled and did the claw right back to his brother. "Alrighttttt."

  
Atsumu and Suna talked about the present Inarizaki high school volleyball club and how they were doing in tournaments. They talked about Atsumu being MIA the past weeks and how Aran had improved and also about Kita's farm when suddenly, Suna veered back and asked, "Who likes umeboshi, by the way?"

  
He met Suna's eyes and said, "Sakusa."

  
A pause. Suna studied his face. And then one corner of his mouth quirked up. Atsumu looked away.

  
"You're going home next month for your birthday, right? I'm gonna ask Aran to go. We should pay Kita a surprise visit while in Hyogo."

  
Atsumu just responded with an affirmative hum and grabbed a magazine on the table, flipping through the pages as Suna stood up and tried to follow a TikTok dance. He only watched Suna in the corner of his eyes but he could tell, Bokuto was a better dancer than him.

  
Osamu came back in later, handing Atsumu the paper bag that contained his requested food. He thanked him and then trash-talked him about his fiance's poor dance skills right in Sunarin's presence. Suna just flipped him off and continued learning Sunday's Best TikTok as Osamu kicked him off the chair so he could sit in it and have a perfect view of Suna making a fool of himself.

  
Atsumu waved goodbye but before pushing the door that separates the office and the small dining hall, he looked back, eyes falling on his twin's face. 

  
Osamu's face was tilted up because he was watching Rintarou. His hair hidden under his Onigiri Miya cap, mouth closed but the corners curving up for that muted smile. And his eyes… His eyes...

  
Atsumu pushed through the door and walked straight to the counter. He handed his card. The staff manning the counter didn't know how much to charge him, still holding Atsumu's card, the staff disappeared to the office to ask Osamu. Atsumu felt the presence of at least 5-8 people behind him, waiting for him. The staff came back. "He said 10,000 yen," he said, blinking confusedly at Atsumu. That was a lot for rice balls.

  
"Cool," Atsumu said, nodding.

  
His card was swiped and given back to him.

  
He turned around and smiled, beckoning his fans and walking near the entrance where the lighting was a little bit better. He was asked simple questions in between camera snaps. How are you? You haven't updated your social media accounts for months, developed any new hobbies? You're the first shampoo endorser that has bleached hair, isn't that so cool? Everything was a blur. 

  
When he arrived at the MSBY apartment, he stopped at the stairs, unlocking his phone and looking at his photo again. 

  
Or course it was familiar. He'd been seeing this expression on Osamu's face every time he caught him staring at Sunarin. He'd been seeing this exact expression on his twin since highschool. 

  
Atsumu looked fucking enamored in the photo. This wasn't Samu looking at Rintarou. This was him looking at Kiyoomi. 

He took a deep breath, typing 'call off the search party, alright? :)' in the caption and posted the photo. 

* * *

"What's wrong?"

  
"Huh?" Atsumu dragged his eyes from his plate to Kiyoomi's face.

  
Kiyoomi wiped the corner of his mouth with a paper towel, his plate all clean. He was done eating. "You have one brain cell left and you're overworking it. What's wrong? Did something happen?"

  
The thing was, Kiyoomi wasn't stupid. Kiyoomi finished university and he even had a degree and a diploma hanging somewhere in his parent's house back in Tokyo. Kiyoomi was not stupid, he was one of the smartest people Atsumu had ever known so there was no way Kiyoomi hadn't noticed the way Atsumu looked at him.

  
It was the same way Osamu looked at Rintarou. Same way Bokuto looked at Akaashi. The same way a dog looked at a prettier dog.

  
Did he make that face every time he looked at Kiyoomi? or only when Kiyoomi stroked his hair? 

  
"Nothing. Just." He shoved a whole rice ball in his mouth, his jaw almost locking. "Samu said some stuff. You know he loves messing up with me," he said, chewing with his mouth open, some rice sticking stubbornly at the corner of his lip. Kiyoomi looked at him disapprovingly. "Quit looking so disgusted, Omi. You love my mouth."

  
Kiyoomi's nose scrunched. "Anyway," he said, the tip of his fingers tapping on the table. "You coming with me tomorrow?"

  
Atsumu shoved another rice ball in his mouth, chewing it slowly this time, buying himself some time. He held Kiyoomi’s gaze, never releasing his eyes. "I don't think we need it. I don't have any plans to go back to my old ways, you know," he said, calmly and carefully, just in case this wasn't about him at all.

  
"You're just saying that now but after a week or two, you're gonna get yourself drunk and you're gonna grind against the first crotch you see."

  
So it was about him.

  
"I am capable of keeping my sexual urges under control, thank you. And I'm serious, Omi. I'm done. I'm done with people. I'm done playing that game. I'm getting old, you know."

  
"You're 24."

  
"I'm turning 25 real soon."

  
"25 is not old."

  
"It is old. Bokkun got married at 23."

  
"Of course he got married at 23. He's Bokuto."

  
They burst into chuckles, never breaking eye contact. When the laughter died down, Kiyoomi looked away, clearing his throat. Atsumu shoved the last of his food in his mouth, rewinding the conversation and wondering why he mentioned Bokuto's marriage like his teammate's life perfectly fit the context. It never fit, he realized belatedly. Bokuto's age didn't belong there. It belonged to a different continent of discourse.

  
"You said you're going to be the hottest bachelor until you're 40." Kiyoomi reminded him and Atsumu just smiled. The conversation took a weird turn.

  
"That's still one of my long time goals, Omi," Atsumu said, clearing it out. "And you said you'd never fall in love with me but we had sex many times." Thirteen times, he wanted to say but they had agreed on something. "Four times, Omi." he teased. "My, my. You need to be very careful. One more and I'm going to think you've already caught feelings for me."

  
"My, my." Kiyoomi mimicked. "If we do it again it means WE are in love with each other, not just me." 

  
Atsumu paused, his brain kicking in. "... Right," he said, nodding slowly.

  
Kiyoomi had a dumbfounded expression, like he couldn't believe Atsumu was that stupid. Atsumu just giggled it off.

  
"So..?"

  
Atsumu grabbed his glass of water and downed the whole thing in one go. He wiped his mouth and licked his lower lip when he noticed Kiyoomi was looking at it. Kiyoomi's eyes shot back from his lips to his eyes. Atsumu smiled. "I'm not planning to sleep around, Omi. This is not going to happen soon but if, only if I find someone other than you, whose hole is worth sticking my dick into, I promise I'll get tested first. Alright?"

  
It took a moment before Kiyoomi finally nodded. "Alright."

  
They did the dishes together. They changed Kiyoomi's sheets together. And he playfully followed Kiyoomi to the bathroom, joking that they should also take a shower together. Kiyoomi wrestled him out of the tub, closing the shower curtain right at his face and telling him to leave.

  
"By the way, Omi, you mind driving me tomorrow? It's Bokkun's birthday soon, what if we shop for gifts, huh?"

  
"What made you think I'm going to agree with that? I'm not your private chauffeur."

  
"Oh, c'mon, Omi. My fans think I'm dead. I need to go out."

  
"Then go out."

  
"Go out with me." It was out. Atsumu wished he could swallow the words back but it was out of his mouth.

  
A pause.

  
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

  
Atsumu laughed. Life was just so much easier with Kiyoomi. "It's not a date, alright. I just need a ride and you need vitamin sunlight, Omi. C'mon."

  
"Vitamin D." Kiyoomi supplied, voice muffled by running water. "And no. It'll look like a date."

  
Atsumu pushed the shower curtain aside. "I promise I won't buy you ice cream." he said as he checked Kiyoomi's naked body out. The beauty marks, the fading love marks, his happy trail that leads to treasure, legs that could go on for days–

  
"Ice cream?" Kiyoomi asked, cupping his dick trying to cover it.

  
"Yes. It's like a sign of it being a date. I watched a lot of teenage romcoms, alright? Giving someone ice cream in a cone is super romantic. It's like offering your heart or some equal shit like that." he explained and then grabbed Kiyoomi’s hand. "Don't be shy, Omi, lemme see it."

  
"Fucking hell, Atsumu! Leave me alone!" Kiyoomi swatted Atsumu's hand away from his dick and closed the curtain. 

  
"After buying you dinner, this is the treatment I get." Atsumu shook his head. "How about you, Omi-kun. What's your idea of, say, a perfect first date?"

  
"Museum."

  
Atsumu groaned in disapproval. "I knew you're the boring type." he started to move out, lingering a bit in the bathroom door to sing "Good night Omi. See you tomorrow." and ignored Kiyoomi’s objections. 

  
"I'm not driving you around, loser."

* * *

  
Kiyoomi drove them around.

  
Kiyoomi suggested they buy Bokuto a gift check from an appliance brand. Bokuto was loaded but he was a married man that was about to move to an actual house. They'd shop for appliances and furniture soon and a gift check was the most practical gift. Atsumu granted it was a great idea and went with it.

  
Kiyoomi needed a new headphone jack adapter so they went to the apple store. Upon watching the video playing on the big screen inside the store, Atsumu was convinced the newest iPhone was the best phone ever and he was about to pull his wallet out but pushed it back in when Kiyoomi said he had a spending problem.

  
They ate in a decent Italian Restaurant. They split the bill. They walked together half a meter apart from each other. Kiyoomi would always walk ahead slowly whenever Atsumu got asked for photos, and times like this made Atsumu dislike his idol image a little bit.

  
They dropped by a newly opened pastry shop. Atsumu bought a dozen bite-sized castella and they decided to go home after strolling around for another hour.

  
They sanitized their hands with cleansing wipes as soon as they got in the car. Kiyoomi held a ziplock pouch where Atsumu discarded the used wipes as well as his mask. He reached out to take Kiyoomi’s mask off and discarded it in the pouch as well. 

  
Atsumu was looking at Kiyoomi's mouth. It had been covered by the mask majority of their time outside, he kinda missed seeing it.

  
Kiyoomi leaned towards Atsumu to drop the locked pouch in the glove compartment. He cocked his head to the right and started at Atsumu's face. The moment Kiyoomi's gaze dropped to his mouth, Atsumu threw all cautions, leaning forward, and Kiyoomi was there, meeting him halfway. Their lips locked, colliding like magnets.

  
Atsumu pushed his tongue in, deepening the kiss and Kiyoomi welcomed him, opening his mouth and letting out air through his nose, ending his exhale with a moan. Atsumu answered with a moan of his own when Kiyoomi kept pressing his thumb in the corner of Atsumu's mouth as they kissed. Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s thigh, inching his hand slowly towards the spiker's crotch. Kiyoomi’s thumb danced under his bottom lip, and it was so close, so close, Atsumu wanted to grab Kiyoomi's wrist and just shove that thumb inside his mouth but they both knew there'd be no turning back once they let that happen. One finger in Atsumu’s mouth would be the end of it. Or the start. Of something else, entirely. 

  
Kiyoomi pulled back, smacking their lips once, twice, three times before he backed away to the driver's seat. Atsumu squeezed Kiyoomi’s thigh, hard, and tapped it three times, too, before pulling away, making Kiyoomi snort under his breath. Atsumu smiled and put his seat belt on. He talked about the weather as they pulled out of the car park and they had agreed to go coat shopping before the v.league starts next month. 

  
A promise of going out again after making out in the car seemed like a perfect end of a first date. But it wasn't a date. It wasn't a date, to begin with. And they cleared that out again as they parted ways in the hallway.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter Bokutos birthday. We know what happens after birthday parties >.<


	3. ATSUMU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad grammar
> 
> TW: mentions Depression

* * *

“You kinda, uhmm.”

  
Atsumu put the last of his clothes in his duffel bag and raised his brows at Meian. “Kinda what?”

  
The MSBY captain tilted his head, surveying Atsumu. “You don’t look good.”

  
Atsumu glanced at his reflection on his small mirror. He didn’t find any fault. “I respect the ugly community but it ain’t me, Captain, c'mon.” He closed his locker and sat on the bench, bending down to tie his shoes.

  
"No, but it's your aura."

  
"My aura." Atsumu deadpanned.

  
Meian tilted his head to the other side. "You look like you're going through something."

  
Somebody in the room snorted. Atsumu veered around to trace where the sound came from and found Inunaki faking a cough, his back facing him. Standing beside Inunaki was Bokuto who was just humming to himself, as always, without a care in the world. The second string setter gave Atsumu side-glances while Thomas stepped closer and boldly stared at him. Atsumu almost rolled his eyes. "I am not going through anything," he said as he watched Kiyoomi pull a new mask from his endless supply in his locker. Atsumu faced Meian. "I don't remember messing up my tosses today."

  
Meian exhaled and turned around, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Thinking that the weird conversation was over, Atsumu picked up his bag. Just when he was about to stand, Meian appeared again, towering in front of him. "I don't know how to explain this but your aura is kinda heavy? And it's getting heavier day by day? It almost feels like you're a ticking time bomb and you're going to like, not explode but maybe snap one day."

  
"Huh???"

  
"I'm just saying this because I'm your Captain and I notice stuff–" Meian said.

  
"Believe me, you don't, especially the most interesting stuff." Inunaki interrupted but Meian ignored his whole being.

  
"– and I know you've been really good this past few months but now it’s making me anxious. I’m afraid you’ll suddenly spiral back-”

  
“When was the last time you had sex, Tsum tsum?”

  
Bokuto’s question made Thomas gasp like he just discovered the answer to a science mystery while Inunaki never bothered to hide his chuckles anymore. Atsumu just ignored them and faced Meian, prompting him to continue his weird Captain talk but Meian just looked at him and asked, “When?”

  
"And with who?" Inunaki added.

  
Atsumu huffed. “A week ago. Why?" He said, completely ignoring Inunaki. He didn’t know where the conversation was going and he was suddenly hyper-aware of Kiyoomi’s presence. Kiyoomi had his mask in place and was ready to go. Atsumu was ready, too. He wanted to walk back home with Kiyoomi but everyone’s eyes, aside from Kiyoomi’s, were pinning him in place. He couldn't do anything but pout when Kiyoomi left after barely stopping by the door to wave lazily at them. Atsumu sighed. “Why do you even have to ask such a personal question, Bokkun?” 

  
“Just, I sometimes feel down for no reason and when I'm in that mood I get irritated easily, and then Keiji found out that the cure is physical intimacy. He could’ve said sex but he used this cool term physical intimacy because he’s smart. Keiji is really smart. He’s the smartest.” Bokuto smiled, looking very proud.

  
Meian then continued with his talk, saying the season was gonna start next month and he was worried Atsumu would lose focus because of unresolved issues and that he should try to do Yoga at least half an hour every day to release some tension to which Atsumu straight up disagreed because he had zero tension and Meian was just being paranoid and for what?

* * *

Atsumu tossed and turned in his bed for 10 minutes. He thought it was 10 minutes but he caught sight of the digital clock on his bedside table and the bright red 12:23 glared at him. Damn it. He couldn't sleep again. He thought he got rid of this, his silent battles at night but no. His undiagnosed mild insomnia was back and it was more annoying than he could remember. 

  
He got up and went to his bathroom. He stood in front of the sink and watched himself in the mirror as he scratched his head, slowly and gently at first but then everything seemed to itch, he had both hands up, clawing around his head aggressively before he abruptly stopped. He exhaled, fixed his hair in place but it never cooperated. He fetched his phone and went back to the bathroom. 

  
_**Omi** _

  
Atsumu cleaned his phone with a cleaning wipe while waiting for a reply.

  
_**No** _

  
Atsumu chuckled at Kiyoomi's response. He washed and dried his hands thoroughly, grabbing his phone after and making his way out. Kiyoomi sent another text, 

  
**_NO_ **

  
but Atsumu was already putting his hallway slippers on. He took off to Kiyoomi's apartment and went straight to the bedroom. The lights were off and the only thing illuminating the room was Kiyoomi's bedside lamp which was fixed into its dimmest shade. Atsumu switched the lights on, the amber light flooding the room. Kiyoomi was lying on his back, his duvet pulled up above his stomach, pretending he was deep asleep. 

  
"Omi," Atsumu called as he walked closer. He stood beside the bed. "Omi," he called again. "You are fake sleeping right now. I know because your eyeballs are fluttering in anger."

  
Kiyoomi breathed heavily. "Turn the fucking lights off." he hissed.

  
"But you won't see me," Atsumu whined. "I need you to look at me, Omi-Kun. Don't I look good?"

  
"Turn the lights off."

  
"But Omiiii~"

  
Kiyoomi exhaled loudly, "I'm giving you 5 seconds to shut the lights, Miya Atsumu–" Atsumu was already on the move towards the switch, "- I swear to God-" he quickly glided his knuckle over it, and the lights were off. Kiyoomi finally breathed normally.

  
Atsumu walked back with heavy steps and kneeled beside Kiyoomi’s bedside. 

  
"Omi,"

  
"Atsumu it's almost 1 am. For the love of God." Kiyoomi said. "You still look exactly like that annoying guy I met at youth camp eight hundred years ago. The guy with pissed colored hair and an overconfident smirk."

  
"That didn't answer my question." Atsumu pouted.

  
Kiyoomi ran a hand over his face in frustration. "You don't look bad, alright?" he said and it made Atsumu feel a little better. It never bothered him, honestly, what Meian said. He just went here partly to annoy Kiyoomi and partly to be with Kiyoomi. "Now can you please go to sleep? It's almost 1 am, please."

  
Atsumu stood up. "Yeah. Alright," he said and walked around the bed. He shamelessly claimed the space beside Kiyoomi, throwing the duvet over his legs. He laid on his side, facing the spiker. He heard Kiyoomi click his tongue when the bed dipped.

  
"Atsumu–"

  
"I couldn't sleep," Atsumu confessed, tucking one palm under the pillow. Kiyoomi opened his eyes but he never looked at Atsumu, he just stared ahead. Kiyoomi’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, Atsumu watched him blink. "But your bed is quite big and comfy, Omi," he said, eyes tracing Kiyoomi’s profile, from his eyes to the angle of his nose, the curve of his lips and chin. Atsumu closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the pillow. "Smells nice, too. It's much easier to fall asleep here." The bed shifted and for a second Atsumu thought Kiyoomi left but when he peeked, he came face to face with Kiyoomi. The spiker mirrored his position and Atsumu almost smiled but he stopped himself because he might get slapped at this point. "Good night," he whispered and closed his eyes again. Kiyoomi mumbled something but he didn't quite catch it because his heart was beatboxing real loud. 

  
At the ass crack of dawn when the temperature outside dropped at its lowest and the cold air from the AC had completely engulfed the room, Atsumu tried to reach the duvet that got tangled around their legs but he couldn't move. Kiyoomi was breathing at the back of his neck, his arm was under Atsumu's shirt, his palm flat on Atsumu's chest. Atsumu tugged Kiyoomi’s arm off of him. Kiyoomi instantly groaned in annoyance, Atsumu thought he'd cuss at him out loud.

  
He quickly wriggled around and faced Kiyoomi, kicking the duvet up and repositioning his body under the covers. He slipped one leg between Kiyoomi’s thighs and put Kiyoomi’s arm back around him. He heard Kiyoomi hum in contentment before dozing off again.

  
They found themselves in a very intimate position in the morning when Kiyoomi’s alarm went off. They calmly and quietly disentangled themselves from each other. Kiyoomi got up first and Atsumu followed him into the bathroom shortly after. He had his arms wrapped around Kiyoomi who was in front of the sink, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed. He pressed his cheek against Kiyoomi’s shoulder and complained about the AC but the spiker never entertained him with any response. Kiyoomi shut the shower curtain at his face and that was his cue to leave.

  
Only when he was on his way to the gym had he acknowledged that waking up and cuddling with someone you love in the morning feels so nice. 

  
And only when he was changing clothes in the locker room had he noticed that he used the L-word. He halted and wasn't able to pull his sweatpants all the way up it fell back down around his ankles. He stared at Kiyoomi.

  
Kiyoomi stared back at him, right eyebrow moving up. "What?"

  
Atsumu shook his head and turned away, tripping over his sweatpants and almost planting his face on the floor if Bokuto hadn't caught his arm and pushed him back to standing position. Bless Bokuto and his quick reflexes and his self proclaimed owl neck. 

  
"You okay, Tsum Tsum?"

  
"Yep!"

  
He pulled his pants up and tied the strings as fast as his trembling fingers could.

  
"Dumbass," Kiyoomi mumbled as he passed by behind him, his shoulder brushing Atsumu's back. 

  
Atsumu’s eyes snapped forward and he saw his reflection on the mirror, the softest shade of pink had flooded his cheeks. He slowly closed his locker door. 

* * *

  
There was a possibility Atsumu might be a little in love with Kiyoomi. That wasn't confirmed yet because how do you even confirm feelings? There was no scale or like, a test or a measuring apparatus that you could push down your throat and pull back out and would tell you if you were in love or just horny or it was just because the last quarter of the year was approaching and your zodiac sign was just acting up. He didn't even say the L-word out loud, it was just a slip in his mind.

  
But there was a possibility Atsumu might be a little in love with Kiyoomi. Everyone who had eyes could tell that Sakusa Kiyoomi was one beautiful human, so yes, it was too easy to get attracted to him. And yes, when it comes to attractiveness, Atsumu was also right up there but did he dare think he had a chance with Kiyoomi? No. Kiyoomi might've spent plenty of nights with him and might've let him sleep in his bed but would he want a relationship with Atsumu? No. That was a no brainer. For fuck's sake, Kiyoomi used to look at Atsumu like he was a puddle of mud. Atsumu could poke a random teammate and tell them that he was in a relationship with Kiyoomi, just a combat rehearsal, you know, a weird test-run if the earth flipped and Kiyoomi lowered his standards and they became a thing, he knew for sure, that the random teammate would just laugh at his face and tell him it was a good joke.

  
So yeah, Atsumu might be a little in love with Kiyoomi but there was a thin, very thin, as thin as a virgin hair strand chance that Kiyoomi would reciprocate his feelings. 

  
Atsumu might be a little in love with Kiyoomi and he had decided to handle this great discovery properly, like a real adult.

  
He'd try to suppress this shit.

  
He was already trying to erase all memories of the L-word in his mind when his thoughts got interrupted.

  
"That chair is extremely clean now, don't you think?"

  
Atsumu paused, eyes darting from his right hand that was wiping the chair and then to the mountain of used wipes on the table. He glanced up, Akaashi met his eyes for a quick second before focusing back on his phone. Atsumu was too occupied by his thoughts that he never even noticed Akaashi had taken a seat in front of him. "Sakusa needs his chair clean," he said with a casual smile.

  
"Yeah," Akaashi smiled and met his eyes again, just to be polite.

  
Bokuto rented half of the Yakiniku restaurant and it already started to get loud just from people conversing and catching up. People from Tokyo and Miyagi with faces very familiar to Atsumu continue to fill in the room, he even spotted a few of Bokuto's sponsors. Bokuto had so many friends. Bokuto would usually celebrate with the team and some of his friends that lived in the nearby prefecture and then celebrate again in Tokyo. This year he said he would hold just one dinner in Osaka. Atsumu didn't expect a myriad of people would voluntarily travel to celebrate Bokuto's birthday. He was so well-loved.

  
"I just need to write this email. I couldn't concentrate there. Kuroo is so loud."

  
Atsumu chuckled and right on cue, Kuroo announced, "First three rounds of drinks later are on me, alright, kids?" to which Bokuto cheered but Yaku interrupted, calling Kuroo "cheap."

  
Atsumu chose the table in the corner because Kiyoomi couldn't stand sitting in the middle especially during this kind of gathering. 

  
"He's not that loud, c'mon," Atsumu said without a hint of sarcasm which made Akaashi snort. 

  
"Done," Akaashi said a moment later, pocketing his phone. "I'm going back there. You okay here?" 

  
Atsumu nodded. "Yep."

  
"Talk to you later, Atsumu."

  
Atsumu smiled again, "Later, Bokuto Keiji." 

  
Akaashi laughed as he walked away. Atsumu's eyes followed Akaashi until the latter took a seat beside Bokuto. Atsumu pulled his attention away from the Fukurodani table and swiveled back around, his eyes catching a head of black curls, he did a double-take and confirmed that Kiyoomi had arrived and was sitting across the fucking room beside Meian. Kiyoomi had his arms crossed and a dead look on his face and he was staring straight back at Atsumu. 

  
Atsumu beckoned Kiyoomi over, aggressively pointing at the seat beside him that he had thoroughly cleaned but something had dropped on the chair and it was Hinata's bag. 

  
"I'm gonna go greet Bokuto-san," Hinata said excitedly and disappeared as fast as he arrived.

  
Kageyama Tobio then took the seat in front of Hinata and as if his misfortune wasn't enough, the universe immediately sent Inunaki in and made him take the seat in front of Atsumu. 

  
"What's up with that?" Inunaki pointed at the mountain of used wipes Atsumu had yet to throw away. "Have you been weeping?" Inunaki asked, cackling.

  
Atsumu sighed, glancing at Kiyoomi’s direction but the latter wasn't looking at him anymore. He was having a conversation with Meian. 

  
Bokuto stood up in the middle of the room, demanding everyone's attention. The room quieted down, a restaurant staff handed Bokuto a wireless microphone but Akaashi was quick enough to snatch it away, saying his husband doesn't need it. Bokuto delivered a quick speech, thanking everyone for coming and asking if anyone dared to challenge him in an eating competition. Nobody dared. 

  
The food followed right after. A tsunami of meat came wave after wave. Atsumu found himself full after just five rounds of meat. He leaned back to his chair and searched for Kiyoomi but he couldn't see him through a bunch of people in between them. Atsumu contemplated walking around and interacting with people, he was on speaking terms with a lot of the guys here but he wasn't in the mood. Tobio and Shouyou's antics kept him entertained for a while but he got bored again. He sighed and picked his phone.

  
**_Shouyou and Tobio have a bet on who could eat more meat._ **

**_Wanna bet who'd get hospitalized?_**

**_Mine's on tobio._ **

  
He let time pass before sending another text because contrary to popular belief, Atsumu wasn't that annoying, alright. He waited 10 full minutes.

  
_**I saved you a seat, Omi :( but what did you do? U chose to sit next to capt instead of me. Why :(** _

  
_**I wiped the chair and all :(** _

  
_**Don't dare say u didn't see me here I chose the table in the corner near the door :(** _

  
_**You were having a moment w Akaashi** _

_**didn't want to interrupt** _

_**What do u mean moment huh** _

_**he was teasing me because I? Was wiping the chair? For half an hour?** _

  
_**It's ok.** **H** **inata's beside u**_

_**doesn't he make your heartbeat go badum badum** _

  
Atsumu eyed Hinata.

**_He has meat oil all over his mouth._ **

**_I miss your sophisticated ass, Omi :(_ **

  
There were choking noises and Atsumu was almost delighted to see that they were coming from Tobio. Hinata was busy attacking the food while Inunaki was simply playing deaf and blind. Atsumu decided he'd let Tobio die.

  
**_Meet me outside in 5 mins_ **

  
But Atsumu was suddenly in a better mood so he handed Tobio his glass that was still half full of water. He then started to count the minutes down. Tobio choked on his food again and this time Inunaki made an effort to tap Tobio’s back but his hands were occupied so he was using his elbow, looking at Atsumu with a face that reads ‘what the hell is wrong with this guy?’ Atsumu just shrugged, uninterested. Inunaki continued to make faces but Atsumu never bothered reading them anymore because a head of black curls popped in his peripheral and was now moving towards the door. Atsumu excused himself.

  
Inunaki raised a brow at him.

  
“Restroom,” Atsumu said but Inunaki never broke eye contact. Atsumu turned away and made his way to the door, falling just two steps behind Kiyoomi. He could almost feel Inunaki's eyes on the back of his skull and when he was about half a meter away from Kiyoomi, Atsumu glanced back just to confirm and yep, Inunaki still had his eyes on him and he was smirking. Atsumu rolled his eyes.

  
He stalked behind Kiyoomi until they reached the open space that served as a car park. They slowed down and stopped under a young ginkgo tree with leaves a week away from turning yellow. Atsumu leaned against it. Kiyoomi had his hands tucked inside the pockets of his thin windbreaker, staring heavenward. He looked like he was appreciating the stars, or maybe the tree adorned by the moonlight but that couldn't be the case because of the light pollution. You'd never see shit here.

  
Kiyoomi was standing in between Atsumu and a lamp post situated not far away from where they stood. The light from it gleamed on the other side of Kiyoomi's face, highlighting the edges of his silhouette. Atsumu's eyes were glued to his side profile again, it was like watching a solar eclipse. 

  
“You gotta stop using those sad faces. They’re not even cute.”

  
“They are cute and they brought you here, didn’t they?” Atsumu smiled. 

  
“I’m here because you looked like you were five seconds away from throwing a tantrum.” Kiyoomi said, his eyes still fixed on the night sky. 

  
“Well, it’s a Yakiniku Restaurant, Omi. There was a lot of smoke and I needed you beside me so I could sniff you anytime I wanted but what did I get? A view of Tobio choking and almost dying in front of me, that’s what.”

  
Kiyoomi barked a laugh, his upper body shaking. That was his kind of humor, Atsumu had learned a long time ago when out of curiosity, Bokuto chewed a leaf of a house plant inside Coach Foster’s office and they found out three seconds later that it was poisonous. Kiyoomi couldn't stop humming ‘Dumb ways to die’s theme song for a whole week. He’d lived with Itachiyama’s Memento Mori for three years of his high school volleyball career, maybe that had something to do with how Kiyoomi found these stuff funny.

  
They stayed under the tree, Atsumu humming a One Direction song while Kiyoomi kept running a hand over his hair and saying how badly he needed to shower, wash the smell of smoke away.

  
"Omi, we gotta stick together at the bar later, okay?"

  
"I'm not going." Kiyoomi said, hand reaching out to detach Atsumu from the tree.

  
Atsumu stumbled forward. "What? Nooo. I've been looking forward to drinking with you tonight." he whined but Kiyoomi already turned away and was heading back to the restaurant.

  
"It's going to be crowded there." Kiyoomi simply said. Atsumu trailed behind with heavy steps. "Meian's been observing you all night, said you're still acting weird. Talk to people, alright?"

  
"I don't know, Omi. I'm not in the mood to play my social butterfly role." Atsumu muttered.

  
"He's gonna make you do Yoga." Kiyoomi said, cocking his head to the side to give him a look. Atsumu scowled at him. Kiyoomi turned forward but not before Atsumu noticed his mouth curving in amusement.

  
Atsumu blinked the creases between his eyebrows away and stared blankly at the back of Kiyoomi's head. _He has no idea,_ Atsumu thought, biting the inside of his cheek, _he has no idea what he's doing to me._

  
They stepped inside the restaurant, Bokuto's face was buried in his birthday cake, Hinata was jumping up and down, Kuroo was cackling like a hyena and Inunaki was filming everything.

  
"You're gonna miss a lot of fun, Omi."

  
"Get drunk and have fun." Kiyoomi said. "Then come home and tell me all about it."

  
  


* * *

  
Atsumu slammed the shot glass down on the table, forcing his eyes open from a wince and seeing Kuroo and Tsukki standing still. They'd been going, just the three of them for more than five, six rounds, Atsumu lost count. 

  
"Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Just fucking lose already!"

  
Kuroo shook his head at him, "No way!" he stuck his tongue out and grinned. Bokuto was hollering beside him, cheering for the entirety of Tokyo. And it didn't make sense because he had been living in Osaka for years now.

  
A blurry ball of orange was moving up and down on Atsumu's 4 o'clock, it could be Hinata jumping or it could be a bouncing basketball, he wasn't sure. He didn't look to check because having a constant movement in his peripheral was already making him dizzy. He wanted to win. Hyogo was going to disown him otherwise.

  
Tsukki already had his fist extended and ready for rock paper scissors.

  
"Tokyo, Miyagi, and Hyogo! Who's gonna win? Who is the strongest ever? Who's–"

  
Atsumu didn't register the rest of Bokuto's words because Tsukki's hand started to move and Kuroo was turning around with his arms wide open, being a threat to everyone in his 1meter radius. Tsukki put out rock, Atsumu paper, Kuroo turned around twice, accidentally slapping Tobio who was minding his own business at the next table and putting out rock.

  
"Fuck, yeah!!" Atsumu yelled. "I win!" He did his celebratory move, nodding with one fist in front of him, a poor imitation of what Kiyoomi did every time he scored. "Beer! Damnit!" 

  
Everyone around their table cheered and wished Tsukki good luck. Kuroo had told him earlier that beer was Tsukki's weakness. If he wanted to win this match, he'd have to eliminate Miyagi first.

  
"Beer! Beer! Beer!" Bokuto and Hinata chorused.

  
Three pints of beer was laid on the table, Tsukki glared at it while Kuroo laughed at him.

  
They claimed one pint each. Kuroo and Atsumu downed theirs immediately and unceremoniously while Tsukki took his time. Kuroo and Atsumu waited for Tsukki to finish, expecting him to be done and give up but the latter put his empty glass back down, yelling "Let's fucking go!" and extending his fist again for rock paper scissors.

  
"How the hell are you holding up? We drank at least two liters of beer each." Atsumu wondered, looking at Tsukki almost worriedly.

  
"Liquor is nothing. I have depression." Tsukki said, his face serious. Everyone around them quieted down.

  
"Well, damn." Atsumu breathed out.

  
"Let's go!!!" Tsukki yelled once again.

  
They played again, Tsukki won and ordered three 'Adios Motherfuckers'. Kuroo tried to talk him out of ordering it, suggesting 'Sex in the Driveway' instead but Tsukki was determined to kill both Atsumu and Kuroo. Meanwhile, Kenma smelled unfaithfulness from the other side of the VIP room upon hearing Kuroo said the word sex and immediately walked up to them to investigate. 

  
  


* * *

  
Atsumu won the liquor drinking contest and received five forehead kisses from the birthday boy as a prize. He could've lived without the kisses but Bokuto insisted.

  
Later that night, he learned that Tsukki's depression and his more than two personality disorders were self-diagnosed after having six units of Psychology in uni. This information came from his friend, the one that had lots of freckles. Freckled guy spilled that enthusiastically like he was so thrilled to be the only one who could call out Tsukki's bullshit. 

  
Atsumu also learned that Kuroo and Kenma weren't a thing despite them being so obviously in love with each other and that somehow made Atsumu sad. 

  
Atsumu threw up in the restroom twice and was in the process of sobering up. He was watching Bokuto and Akaashi dance in the middle of the dance floor. He could only see their upper bodies from his seat but the scene still reminded him of that one summer night in early June, when the sponsors had left and the only ones in the party venue were the jackals and some very welcomed guests like their spouses and kids. Akaashi and Bokuto had danced like they were the only people in the room. Atsumu had thought those kinds of moments only happened in movies until he experienced it on the same night.

  
Tonight, Kiyoomi wasn't standing beside him to listen to him talk about how Bokuto and Akaashi were definitely the main characters and everyone else in the room were just extras. Tonight Kiyoomi wasn't around and he was sitting beside Kenma. Kenma never uttered a single word and was constantly on his phone. Atsumu preferred this kind of company instead of rejoining the jackals' table, they were too fucking noisy.

  
"Make space," Kuroo said before squeezing in between him and Kenma. "Kitten, we're crashing at Bo's, right? Or do you want to book a hotel nearby?" 

  
"I already booked a hotel."

  
"Alright." Kuroo said, turning to Atsumu. "Hey."

  
Atsumu responded with a grunt and nod.

  
Kuroo snickered. "Anyway, why aren't you…" he said, gesturing at the dance floor. Atsumu knew what Kuroo meant but he feigned confusion. Kuroo hummed, nodding and throwing an arm around Atsumu. "Are you still dating that hot sports journalist?"

  
Atsumu shook his head and noticed that the movement didn't dizzy him too much. "No. I never dated anyone."

  
"Oohhhh. The media was pretty convincing, huh. They sold me that one." Kuroo said. "Well, then, if you're free as a bird and," he said, thumb pointing at the small crowd of girls by the bar counter, _if you wanna take someone home_ was left unsaid, "I'm a great wingman. Feel free to ask for my services, alright?" 

  
Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows. Atsumu snorted. "Thanks but, nahhh."

  
"Alright," he said and turned to Kenma. "I'm getting a drink, you want something?" 

  
"Water."

  
"How about you, Atsumu?"

  
"I'm good. Thanks."

  
When Kuroo left, Atsumu thought about what he had offered.

  
Atsumu had bonded a lot with Bokuto's people as soon as they'd arrived here. It was past midnight and if this was a few months back, he'd already narrowed his choices down and set his eyes on someone here. Now, he had zero intentions of bringing someone home, he didn't even wanna talk to anyone outside their circle. 

  
And if this was at least two weeks ago, he'd be sitting on Kiyoomi’s bathroom sink with the latter helping him brush his teeth.

  
Atsumu would like that. Atsumu liked how Kiyoomi treated him when he was drunk. Atsumu would like to spend the night with Kiyoomi right now. But they'd made a deal. They wouldn't do it again. They already had sex ~~thirteen~~ four times and if they do it one more time it'd prove that they were in love based on Inunaki’s bullshit and Atsumu was not about to admit anything right now, alright. He was not about to go to Kiyoomi's apartment right now because first of all, he was drunk. And second of all— hang on. He was drunk. Atsumu was drunk.

  
Atsumu stood up, eyes roaming around searching for his jacket. He spotted it hanging at the back of Inunaki's seat. "Hey, I'm heading out." he told Kenma. Kenma nodded and saluted without looking up from his phone. Atsumu walked straight to the jackals, his teammates cheered upon seeing him. He ignored them, pulling his jacket from Inunaki's seat and telling Meian that he was leaving. His teammates boo-ed him. "It's almost 2 in the morning, guys." he simply said before going from table to table, tapping everyone he was friends with on the back and waving at everyone else.

  
He threw his jacket over his shoulder as he made his way to the counter where the bartender was pouring Tequila straight out from the bottle into Bokuto's waiting mouth, Kuroo was beside him, waiting for his turn. Atsumu tapped Akaashi's shoulder, pulling the envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handing it to him. "From us to Bokkun. It's a gift check. It's not much but maybe it's enough to buy a bedside table or a nice toaster or a lampshade or maybe several light bulbs, I'm not sure." Atsumu said. "For when you move to your house."

  
"Oh, wow." Akaashi accepted it and smiled at him. "This is so nice! Thank you." 

  
"You're welcome. Keep it, for now, don't give it to Bokkun, he's drunk, he's gonna lose that."

  
"Yeah, I know!" Akaashi laughed. "By the way, when you said US you meant Sakusa and you, right?"

  
"Yeah." Atsumu said, nodding and turning to Bokuto. He told him he was leaving and he was pulled into a bone-crushing, life-threatening hug. And it lasted three long seconds. That was the longest three seconds of his life.

Bokuto then maneuvered him, pushing him into Kuroo who gave him a side hug while laughing at his face, saying, "You're fine, you're fine!" because Kuroo knew Atsumu had seen his life flashed before his eyes with that deadly hug. Atsumu made his way out as soon as he got released.

  
He stumbled out of the bar, pulling his phone to book a cab. 

  
  


* * *

  
He stood outside Kiyoomi’s door.

  
He had the key in his hand but it was just not right to use it now. It was past 2 in the morning and his intentions were not pure, he would never allow himself to use this key. He was here to convince Kiyoomi to have sex with him again for the last time. Just one more night. This would never count because Atsumu was drunk, right?

  
Atsumu raised his hand, about to knock but chickened out at the last second, his hand went up to his head, pulling his hair instead.

  
_What if he doesn't wanna do it with me anymore?_

  
Why was he so anxious, anyway? It wasn't like he was scared of Kiyoomi. He was not scared of Kiyoomi. What was Kiyoomi gonna do, reject him? 

  
_Fuck. No no no. That'll hurt so bad. No, thanks._

  
Atsumu chickened out for real, turning and walking away. He was almost at his apartment's doorstep when he did a 180 and walked back to Kiyoomi’s.

  
_I will not be able to fall asleep if I don't at least try._

  
He stood outside Kiyoomi’s door, again. It's past 2 in the morning and Kiyoomi was probably asleep. Atsumu planned to knock softly, that way, he wouldn't wake Kiyoomi and he wouldn't get rejected and nobody could say he was a coward because he knocked, okay? 

  
_Knock three times as quietly as possible, and then go home and sleep. Perfect._

  
He raised his hands, his knuckles two inches away from the door. 

  
He knocked once, twice, and to his surprise, the door swung wide open.

  
Kiyoomi was standing in front of him. His arms were crossed and he didn't look happy at all.

  
"Took you long enough."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa pov next chapter


	4. KIYOOMI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1st week of june 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are 3-4 people who always leave comments under every chapter and I'm- ?? so? thankful for yall? i hope u stay til the end sflshfdjsdg btw this chapter is long but empty lol there are songs frm the 80's mentioned (ill put link at the end) bc i loved that era. and this chapter long af i didnt bother proofreading this i never proofread shit so sorry for the bad grammar typo etc

* * *

“Took you long enough,”

Kiyoomi tied his robe tighter around his waist, giving the fake blond a once over, eyes lingering a second too long on Atsumu’s feet on the welcome doormat. He was barefoot. Kiyoomi clicked his tongue. “The fuck do you want?”

“Now, now, Omi-omi. I love it when you swear at me first thing in the morning.” Atsumu grinned, moving close but not too close, just playing around the edges of Kiyoomi’s personal space.

“It’s 3 in the afternoon,” Kiyoomi said dismissively, grabbing the doorknob.

Atsumu pouted, stepping one foot in and blocking the door with his thigh. There was a smudge of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth. “Let me in.”

**3:11 pm**

Three suits of different colors were laid on his bed. Beige, Burgundy, and a classic Black. 

“Get rid of the earth tone one, Omi, that’s boring.”

Kiyoomi knew better than to take unsolicited advice from a guy who wore crocs so he grabbed the Beige one, as well as the white dress shirt, and moved to the corner of his bedroom where Atsumu couldn’t see him. He took off his robe and threw it on the chair beside his window. He put the dress shirt first, the pants followed, and lastly, the jacket. The first time he had worn this was during an interview with volleyball monthly before his rookie season. The fit of the shoulders had been a bit loose that time, he remembered their PR assistant clipped the back of the jacket using a safety pin. It was a double-page spread, Kiyoomi had thought the prints looked okay but now he was starting to rethink everything. Miya Atsumu. Kiyoomi closed his eyes and threw his head back, giving his neck a nice stretch while buttoning his jacket. The shoulders fit perfectly now but that didn't come as a surprise, it was just the result of trying to keep up with Bokuto’s workout program.

He walked out of his room, passing by Atsumu who had his body draped over the backrest of the sofa just so he could peek at Kiyoomi's bedroom. Kiyoomi had given him permission to sit on the sofa and in return, Atsumu gave him reasons to regret that decision every day. "I hope you fall on your face," he said, ignoring Atsumu's fuss about him being mean.

"The color is so wrong, Omi, believe me," Atsumu said as Kiyoomi continued to evaluate his appearance on the mirror perpendicular to his entryway. 

"I don't see anything wrong with it."

"It's wrong because you have a very nice wine-colored suit but you decided to try that first. You look like a log." 

Kiyoomi took a deep breath, mentally counting from 1 to 10 before letting the air out slowly. It was impossible not to choose violence when it comes to this fake blond. He turned around and marched towards Atsumu. "I wore this during my first magazine interview as a professional athlete, —"

"I do have a copy of that issue."

"— my photos were printed on two fucking pages and now you're telling me I look like a log—"

"It's because you do."

Kiyoomi pointed a finger at Atsumu. _Your opinion doesn't matter but weirdly_ , "—You are giving me anxiety." _for a thing that happened in the past._

Atsumu paused and nodded like he got the gist of at least half of what Kiyoomi tried to say. He wrapped his hand around Kiyoomi’s forefinger. "You looked great, Omi. You had that late-afternoon-tea-by-the-window-as-the-sun-begins-to-set kind of vibe going on and it worked well with that lighting. But tonight is a dinner party," he said, squeezing Kiyoomi’s finger, "so will you please try that burgundy suit?"

Kiyoomi raised a brow. _I hate to admit this, I'll never admit it out loud anyway but that makes sense._

"Alright," Kiyoomi grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Only because you asked nicely." He went back to his bedroom to try the burgundy suit on. _Did I really look great in the lighting?_ Kiyoomi squinted, trying to remember the vibe of the photos. _Late afternoon, tea, and sunsets—_. "Damn it," he cursed while buttoning his jacket. _For the love of God, Kiyoomi, you don't have to overthink every word that idiot says._

"Omi-omi, let me see~"

**3:44 pm**

Kiyoomi was seated on the sofa, eating his disaster of a stew featuring noodles. The television was on Cartoon Network because Atsumu was a five-year-old child. 

On the screen, some kind of animated animal Kiyoomi was yet to distinguish was running around a house full of porcelain vases. The animal knocked a big one, the vase flying in the air before landing on top of the stairs. It rolled down, the momentum sending it all the way to the front door where it slammed and broke into hundreds of pieces. 

“Oh no,” Atsumu pitied, “put it in rice.”

Kiyoomi snorted, the air in his throat pushing the food up, clogging his windpipe. He put his bowl on the coffee table, covering his mouth and coughing the noodle out.

**3:53 pm**

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Omi-Kun, this doesn’t smell appetizing.” 

“Nobody’s forcing you to eat that.” 

Atsumu stirred the contents of the bowl using the chopsticks Kiyoomi used before his near-death experience a few minutes ago. “Did you cook this?”

Kiyoomi sighed and nodded, his attention was on the television. He heard a slurp followed by retching noises.

“What the hell is this?”

Well it was supposed to be a soybean paste stew but Kiyoomi fucked up halfway through the recipe, he tried to revive it using instant ramen seasoning but it made it so much worse so he decided to might as well put the noodles in. That was too long, Kiyoomi never bothered explaining.

“I can’t tell if this tastes bitter or sour," Atsumu complained before burying his face into the bowl again. He forced the food down, grumbling about how it tasted like vomit but he needed to eat it to reduce food waste. He put the empty bowl back to the coffee table, facing Kiyoomi, his cheeks puffing as he chomped the rest of the noodles.

_He looks ridiculously adorable_. "You're an idiot, Miya."

**4:02 pm**

"By the way, Omi-omi, I saw your car in front of the complex this morning."

"No."

"You're driving later, right?"

"No."

"Great. What time do we leave?"

**4:14 pm**

"6:30." Kiyoomi grumbled, clutching the remote control in his hand and flipping through channels.

**4:22 pm**

"Keijiiiiiii!!!!"

"Jesus, Koutarou, calm down." 

"But I miss you so much!!!" 

Atsumu faced him, his eyes questioning. Kiyoomi sighed. "There's no such thing as thick walls when you're living next to Bokuto." he simply said.

**4:52 pm**

Atsumu stood up, finally, taking his leave. "I gotta get ready, Omi. See you later."

"Wait." Kiyoomi got up, too, and went to the bathroom. He pulled a new pair of slippers from the cabinet under the sink. He had kept some extras only for guests but Atsumu walking barefoot in the hallways had always bothered him. He handed the slippers to Atsumu who was already standing in the genkan. "Hallway slippers."

Atsumu clutched his chest dramatically, smiling at Kiyoomi fondly. "For me?" he asked while wiping his imaginary tears. 

And just like that, Kiyoomi wanted to smack his head upside down.

"Awwww. You didn't have to, Omi." Atsumu cooed, snatching the slippers from Kiyoomi. He held it against his cheek, looking up and blinking at him slowly. 

Kiyoomi turned away and opened the door. "Leave."

"But Omi, I'm not done thanking you. It's blue and blue is definitely not my color but I'll treasure this gift until the day I die—"

Kiyoomi pulled an umbrella beside the shoe rack.

"—but I refuse to die today so I am leaving."

**4:58 pm**

Kiyoomi stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the sofa where Atsumu had stayed for two hours.

The need to clean the place never came.

He sat on the sofa and wondered when exactly did Atsumu creep into his 'okay' list.

**5:10 pm**

_Next time he offers to cook, I'll let him._

**6:01 pm**

_**You hate him because he made you laugh?** _

_**Yes. I was terrified of clowns when I was young, remember?** _

**6:25 pm**

Kiyoomi opened the door and immediately slammed it close.

_I fucking knew it._

Atsumu turned the knob, pushing the door open when he figured it was unlocked. "We match," he announced happily.

Kiyoomi wanted to set himself, or both of them on fire. "You planned all of this. I knew something was off when you repeatedly told me I look good in burgundy."

"We look good in burgundy."

Kiyoomi closed his eyes, pushing the balls of his palm in his cheek, counting 1 to 10 and reminding himself that Atsumu weighs more than 175 lbs and it'd be a pain hiding his dead body. 

"Omi, let me in for a second. Can I borrow your lint roller?"

Kiyoomi screamed internally.

**6:38 pm**

The thing was, Kiyoomi knew that he wasn't easy to be with. He wasn't easy to be friends with. It wasn't just his idiosyncrasies, his cousin once told him, it was more of how he had actively driven people away in the past by just, being unreasonably mean.

It had been some kind of defense mechanism, Motoya failed to comprehend. But for the record, Kiyoomi had done that only to people who tried to get too close. 

Miya Atsumu was one of the people who tried to get too close.

In the beginning, Atsumu had played bridge between him and the team. Begging him to come to team dinners, even dragged him to a few runs with Hinata and Bokuto. Kiyoomi had no problem complying, as long as Atsumu kept his end of the bargain– an extra hour in the court, receiving Kiyoomi's serves.

Kiyoomi had gotten comfortable interacting with his teammates in no time, he could honestly say he was friends with half of the team. The fake blond accomplished his goal. Kiyoomi thought Atsumu would finally leave him alone but no.

"Just four records?"

_What more does he want from me?_ Kiyoomi wondered every time he opened the door and came face to face with Miya Atsumu. 

"I don't know any of these bands, Omi-Kun. Don't you have like, a One Direction album or something? Taylor Swift, maybe?"

_I don't even like this guy_ was what Kiyoomi always told himself every time he stepped aside to let Miya Atsumu in.

"Where's your cord– oh, never mind. This one's kinda familiar."

Kiyoomi fixed the rearview mirror, making sure it was at the perfect angle before looking down at Atsumu's hand. "Of course it's familiar. It's The Beatles."

"Yeah, yeah." Atsumu chuckled, leaning forward to load the CD.

The first song started to play as they pulled away from the apartment. They joined the traffic on the main road, Kiyoomi reached out to skip some songs until he heard the intro of [Here Comes the Sun.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6dGnYIeXmHdcikdzNNDMm2) He whistled the melody, and when Atsumu turned to stare at him, Kiyoomi pretended he didn't notice. 

He long stopped whistling and humming the verse but the pair of eyes hadn't released him. Only when they got stuck at another intersection did Kiyoomi allow himself to glance at the passenger's seat to call Atsumu out, tell him it's rude to stare and that if he doesn't stop staring, he's going to kick him out of the car. All those scolding words disappeared in thin air in exchange for "The fuck are you smiling at, you fucking weirdo?"

Atsumu’s tiny smile only widened into a full one, baring his teeth, crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes. "You look so hot right now, Omi-Kun," he said, clear, genuine, unapologetic, and to make it worse, he followed it up with a giggle.

The comment was so out of the blue, Kiyoomi wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions, namely shock, nervousness, anger, panic, and a lot of what the actual fuck?

"Fuck you." he spat out because he didn't know what else to say.

Without missing a beat, "You wanna?" Atsumu whispered, one eyebrow raised, laughing and flexing his biceps when Kiyoomi started throwing punches in his arms.

**7:17 pm**

"You go first," Kiyoomi said as soon as they parked the car.

"Why? Let's go together."

Kiyoomi clicked his tongue. "We're gonna look like walking bottles of wine, Atsumu, you go first.", he repeated, flipping the visor down to check his face in the mirror. He reapplied some lip balm on, smacking his lips together, ignoring Atsumu who was making kissy faces beside him.

"Omi-omi, me too."

"No," he said as he dabbed more balm on his lips using his pinky.

"My lips are chapped, too, c'mon."

"NO."

**7:20 pm**

"Apple, am I right?" Atsumu asked, running his tongue over his lip. "You should buy the strawberry one next time Omi-Kun."

Kiyoomi distanced himself a few meters away from Atsumu as they walked to the venue, burying his hands deep inside his pockets, hoping his pinky finger would stop sending tingling sensations up to his neck. 

**7:38 pm**

The dinner was being held at the dining hall of a famous hotel in Osaka. Representatives from the sponsor companies flooded the venue, a few members of the media also got an invite and were given access after getting oriented by the jackal’s PR team. Kiyoomi got photographed with Atsumu at the entrance. Kiyoomi had that ‘i don’t wanna be here’ face and gladly, nobody was brave enough to mention that they matched suits but unfortunately, Atsumu was determined to ruin Kiyoomi’s night, he went and mentioned it himself. 

"I heard we still got Redbull." he heard Hinata say when he took the seat in front of him. "Three years."

_Of course, we got Redbull. We have Bokuto Koutarou._

"And rumor has it Samsung’s planning to sign two people from the team next year," Hinata added, ducking his head as he leaned towards Inunaki. Both Inunaki and Hinata turned to greet him before continuing their conversation.

"Do you know who?" Inunaki asked, intrigued.

"Atsumu-san." Hinata disclosed, "I'm not sure about the other one."

"Tsumu's an Apple user," Inunaki said. "I guess he’d be carrying an android next year, huh."

"Yeah but let's keep it a secret. It's just a rumor so we can't tell him yet." 

Inunaki nodded. "He's gonna get upset if it ends up not being true."

Kiyoomi busied himself, deleting apps on his phone and completely tuning out the conversation of the two. The room quieted down for a moment before it got louder again as Meian arrived, the subject of the cooing noises, his two-year-old daughter who was hiding behind him.

Hinata approached the little girl, kneeling and beckoning her over. Kiyoomi scrunched his nose, eyeing the knees of Hinata’s trousers that were planted on the floor, _dirty_ , but eventually caught himself smiling when the little girl finally showed her face to Hinata.

“Your hair looks amazing, Aiya-Chan!” Hinata said, pointing at the little girl’s space buns. “Can I touch it?” 

She pouted, tilting her head to the side as she thought about it. She took her time, leaving Hinata hanging for a while before nodding. Hinata reached out to touch her hair, saying something but Kiyoomi wasn’t able to catch it because his view got blocked by Meian’s wife who was exchanging greetings with coach Foster’s wife.

“Do you have a particular preference when it comes to women?” Inunaki asked, his right arm hanging over the backrest of his chair, his eyes fixed on the Meian’s. If they weren’t the only people left at the table, Kiyoomi wouldn’t know that he was talking to him. When Kiyoomi didn’t answer, Inunaki turned and faced him properly. “Or men,” he added belatedly. 

Kiyoomi shrugged. “I don’t think I have a particular preference,” he said, driving the conversation to a dead end. That was how he usually talked to people but Inunaki was a good teammate and Kiyoomi wasn’t as snobbish as before so he at least passed the ball back. “How about you?” he asked even when he wasn’t really curious.

“I want them tiny, you know, pocket-sized. 160cm maximum. They're the feisty ones." Inunaki said easily. "But, would you get attracted to someone like, say, Meian's wife? Tall, sophisticated, intelligent looking,—"

As soon as Inunaki said the last two words, Atsumu came into Kiyoomi's view, he had just walked out of the restroom, looking around like he had lost all sense of direction. Kiyoomi almost laughed.

_Dumbass_.

He tore his gaze away from Atsumu, only then noticing that Inunaki was looking at him, waiting for his response. Kiyoomi blinked, realizing that he hadn't caught the rest of Inunaki's words. He shrugged again, "Maybe", he said, tentatively, rewinding the conversation, _tall, sophisticated, intelligent looking,_ "Yeah. Sure. Why not."

Inunaki propped his elbow on the table, his chin on his palm, and stared directly at Kiyoomi. He looked like he was deep in thought.

Kiyoomi stared back, raising his eyebrows at the Libero. He didn't break eye contact even when Atsumu was becoming more and more of a distraction on his 10 o'clock as he fought Hinata over Aiya-Chan's attention.

"I think you're very smart." Inunaki started. "So you're an overthinker. Y'all overthink stuff and then eventually end up with a dumbass."

**7:50 pm**

Bokuto and his spouse arrived, their presence gaining a lot of attention which Kiyoomi was very thankful for as it cut off his one-sided conversation with Inunaki. 

The night was still too fucking young if you'd ask Kiyoomi, considering he had shaken too many hands when he had arrived and he was obliged to shake many more later. 

He got up and made his way to the restroom a few minutes before dinner to where he, unfortunately, got stuck in another one-sided conversation with some middle-aged man, a representative from one of the biggest telecom companies in the country. It had been one of their main sponsors so Kiyoomi endured it even when the man's breath stank so bad. Kiyoomi never hated words with too many vowels before but damn, every vowel spoken was like a sucker punch straight to the nose.

He complained about it to Atsumu who instantly swore he'd stay by Kiyoomi's side for the rest of the night and that he'd protect Kiyoomi from polluted air. 

**10:47 pm**

When the sponsors, representatives, and other important people were finally gone, Kiyoomi immediately downed a couple of drinks. He was ready to call it a night but Bokuto had just announced that the actual party was about to begin and nobody was allowed to leave until midnight. Miya Atsumu was cheering loudly, simply because he was the ultimate enabler of all things bad and dreadful.

Bokuto walked over to the sound booth. Kiyoomi wasn’t religious, definitely not the praying type, but did he whisper a quick prayer to God, all the saints, and his dead relatives? Yes, he did. _Please, not Bokuto’s playlist_. He genuinely enjoyed the music playing from that vintage turntable in apartment 203 on weekends because Keiji had exquisite music taste but on weekdays? Nicki Minaj? _Please, god, no._

[Melt With You ](https://open.spotify.com/track/78ocJAEFOYKVjYgXZ8fggD) by Modern English hit the airwaves in a fair volume, it wasn’t as loud as he expected, Kiyoomi let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Nobody advanced to the center straightaway but he saw Thomas and his girlfriend enjoying themselves in one corner of the room, bobbing their heads to the music. He overheard Bokuto’s “May I have this dance, Keiji?” as well as Keiji’s “I’m not drunk enough!”. If he turned a blind eye to Hinata and Inunaki who were rolling on the floor for a ridiculous worm dance battle then Kiyoomi thought, yeah, he could enjoy the rest of the night.

Meian’s daughter bumped into his knee when he was on his way to grab another drink, the little girl asked if he wanted to touch her space buns. A lot of people had touched her hair, Kiyoomi was aware but ever since he became an uncle, he promised himself that he’d never be a dick to kids thirteen years old and below, and her sleepy smiles easily won him over so he ducked and ruffled her bangs. She was really cute, Kiyoomi couldn't help but tap her nose with his fingertip which made her burst into giggles. Kiyoomi wasn’t oblivious, he knew there was one person watching him from across the room. He was determined to ignore it at first but this guy’s eyes had their own gravitational pull.

Kiyoomi straightened up, eyes flitting to Atsumu who was holding a wine glass filled to the brim, smiling and watching him. Atsumu left his drink on the nearest table, cutting the distance between them with quick, long strides. He picked up Meian’s daughter who was still very giggly, it was definitely past her bedtime. She wrapped her arms around Atsumu’s neck.

“Do you wanna touch his hair, too?” Atsumu whispered to the kid, his voice gentle and he had that tender look on his face. He had a distinct smile for children.

Aiya-Chan turned to Kiyoomi, eyes darting straight to his face and hair. For a second she looked almost stunned, like he was seeing Kiyoomi for the first time. She nodded aggressively, extending her arm towards him. Kiyoomi stepped forward to accommodate her but what he did not anticipate was for Atsumu to move a step closer at the same time, they ended up too close to each other. Kiyoomi had two people inside his personal space.

Tiny fingers threaded through his hair and Atsumu might have said something funny because she was giggling again. Kiyoomi hadn't caught a single word of what he had said because there was a constant ringing in his ear and Atsumu’s face was less than fifteen inches away. Kiyoomi’s attention zeroed in on the inside of Atsumu’s wine-stained bottom lip, the whole sequence was a terrible replica of a typical coming of age movie scene when [Lips like Sugar](https://open.spotify.com/track/5uyK1WM8qe14n70kvh3IUM) started to play. 

He stared at Atsumu’s mouth for a solid 10 seconds, and that should stir Kiyoomi up. He’d been staring and that was alarming, but this wasn't the first time, he’d done this too many times to be alarmed. Atsumu never caught him anyway so it didn’t happen. 

“Is it soft?” Atsumu asked. “I bet it is.”

“Yes!” Aiya answered excitedly, but her eyelids were becoming evidently heavy. “And smooth. And very shiny," she added while gently tugging his curls. 

"Who has better hair?" Kiyoomi asked confidently, gesturing to himself and Atsumu, but Aiya's eyes roamed around the room, hooting and pointing at Bokuto.

Eventually, Aiya's mother came to fetch her. They exchanged quick formal greetings and goodbyes, Aiya waving at them nonstop until she was passed to his father who was waiting by the door.

The music got a bit louder when Meian left but it was still tolerable. The team were rather scattered during dinner but now that they were the only ones left, they slowly and unconsciously gathered around Bokuto’s radius. Even their PR team and the coaching staff aside from their main coach were at the next table.

Keiji was having a conversation with Hinata, Inunaki was yelling on his phone, Bokuto was dancing in front of the catering crew- they knew he was distracting them since they started packing up- they were chill about it, Thomas was squeezing orange juice into his girlfriend’s wine glass, and Atsumu was pouring Kiyoomi a drink. 

They sat across each other, the fake blond’s attention was on him, observing his every move while Kiyoomi observed everyone else, eyes flitting everywhere but never on the person in front of him. Something was up. Atsumu was more attuned to him now more than ever and if Kiyoomi said he wasn’t even a bit nervous, he’d be lying. It wasn’t every day he got stared at so openly, so intensely. Kiyoomi’s glass suddenly weighed too heavy, he had never exerted too much arm strength just to lift a glass to his lips before. Right after Kiyoomi downed his drink, Atsumu leaned over for a refill. 

Kiyoomi bit the inside of his cheek, letting himself be hypnotized by the bluish-purple liquid and clicking his tongue when his wine glass was half full yet Atsumu hadn’t stopped pouring. Kiyoomi picked it up and moved it out of Atsumu’s reach. Atsumu leaned back on his chair, chuckling. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Kiyoomi accused, finally looking at Atsumu over the rim of his glass. 

“I’d never do such a thing.” Atsumu denied, smiling, and Kiyoomi realized why he’d been hesitant to face Atsumu. He was afraid to see that glint in his eyes. He looked like he had fathomed out one of Kiyoomi’s deepest secrets.

_This dumbass caught me staring._

Kiyoomi tried not to look too agitated, tried not to roll his eyes when Atsumu looked at him dead in the eye, “Besides,” while running a finger across his chin and tugging his bottom lip down, “You’re driving us home.”

_This dumbass caught me staring and he’ll never let me get away with it._

“I’ll give you cab money.” Kiyoomi offered, genuinely. At this point, he’d do anything to get Atsumu out of his hair.

“No, thanks.” Atsumu declined, biting his lip and looking at him teasingly. “I love riding shotgun in your car despite the fact that you listen to ONE SONG repeatedly and it's driving me nuts.”

Kiyoomi put his glass on the table, “Do you have a problem with THE Beatles?” he asked, offense already taken.

“I do NOT. but it was the way you said ‘oF coUrsE iT’s faMiLiar. It’s tHe bEatLes’, you sounded like an avid fan but you skipped songs and only listened to that one song about the sun rising. You’re such a fake fan.” Atsumu accused, pointing a finger at him.

Kiyoomi smacked his hand away. “I am NOT a fake fan-”

“Whatever, Kiyoomi.” 

Kiyoomi gasped, not because Atsumu called him by his first name, he always called him ‘Kiyoomi’ and several renditions of it. He was left dumbfounded because Atsumu had cut him off and Atsumu was convinced that Kiyoomi really was a fake fan of the Beatles. 

Kiyoomi breathed out heavily and sagged back to his chair, surrendering his body to gravity and letting his limbs hang low. He refused to look at Atsumu. 

_I’m a fan. I know all their hit songs and they have A LOT of hit songs. I even learned how to play ‘Let it be’ on the piano when I was a kid. I love their Abbey Road album the most. It’s just that, Here Comes the Sun is my favorite song to listen to while driving._ He chose not to say that out loud. It’d be pointless. Atsumu wouldn’t believe him anyway because Atsumu was fucking idiot.

“Do you wanna dance, Omi-Kun?” Atsumu asked when a familiar upbeat song engulfed the venue.

The previous conversation made his blood boil but now that he calmed down, he started to feel exhausted. He looked at Atsumu tiredly. “Fuck you,” he cussed without much bite. 

And Kiyoomi literally had no idea where the fuck Atsumu got the audacity to dramatically cover his mouth, feigning shock, and then pointing at the table between them, placing both his palm flat on it as he smiled wickedly, “Here?”

**11:33 pm**

_**You'll help me hide the body, right?** _

_**You think killing your crush is worth the prison time, kiyo?** _

_****bane of your existence.** _

_**damn autocorrect** _

**_I'll kill you both. That's worth the prison time_ **

**_….._ **

**11:41 pm**

Atsumu was dancing with a foreigner, an old lady that was just passing by a moment ago, she said her feet guided her there after hearing [In Between Days](https://open.spotify.com/track/4uexN8lwDjGX5SQycpz97I) by The Cure. She was telling Atsumu about the reason why she was in Osaka but the idiot’s English comprehension was below average, he politely tried to cut her off with ‘Let’s just dance.’

Some party crashers- Inunaki’s friends arrived, they tried to engage him into a conversation about Pope Francis- they were already drunk as fuck before coming there-, but Kiyoomi’s social battery had already drained out, he spent the last of it talking to Keiji. 

Kiyoomi leaned against the door, arms crossed as he observed the room. It was during the chorus of [Just Like Heaven](https://open.spotify.com/track/4NnWuGQujzWUEg0uZokO5M) when Atsumu finally noticed his absence. Atsumu stopped dancing, dropping his arms by his sides and doing a 360 degrees turn, looking for him.

“Let’s go.” Kiyoomi mouthed right after catching Atsumu’s eyes. 

Atsumu smiled in relief upon seeing him, nodding and then guiding his dance partner to Bokuto. He said something to Bokuto, thumb pointing at Kiyoomi. Bokuto looked over and waved at him, Kiyoomi waved back. Atsumu then proceeded to say bye to everyone, tapping their backs but pulling Hinata for a side hug. Kiyoomi felt his eye twitch. 

Atsumu grabbed his jacket as well as the bottle of their unfinished wine and two unused wine glasses. He advanced towards Kiyoomi, smiling.

‘ _You’re just like a dream_ ,’ The Cure sang through the speakers. ‘ _You’re just like a dream_ ’ 

Kiyoomi sighed. He’d never admit it out loud but he knew, he knew why the idiot had one of the biggest fan clubs among athletes. He was an amazing setter and hell, he was very attractive, too. An actual dreamboat. If Kiyoomi was a nineteen-year-old girl, he’d want Atsumu, too.

“One for the road,” Atsumu handed him a glass, filling it with a decent amount of wine. 

“I might drive us off a bridge at this point,” Kiyoomi joked as he accepted the drink. 

"We can stay here if you want," Atsumu suggested, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Book a room and all," he said, waiting for Kiyoomi’s reaction.

Kiyoomi just rolled his eyes, giving Atsumu a once over. Black leather shoes, perfectly fitted trousers, black leather belt, white dress shirt that was stretched across the chest, _where the fuck is his tie?_ and a smiling face that screamed trouble. Kiyoomi sighed and knocked back his drink. "Pass." 

Atsumu, the dramatic bitch, dropped his jacket and clutched his chest like he just got stabbed. He wasn't able to finish his theatrics though because a loud cheer was heard, they both turned to see what the fuss was about. 

To their surprise, it was Keiji.

"Saving the best song for last!" Bokuto announced behind the sound booth, "Let's go, Keiji!"

Keiji made a show of taking his suit jacket off and tossing it to Bokuto, singing, ["Ninety-nine red balloons go by~"](https://open.spotify.com/track/7p8HVe22aGW1XtO1hoDHGo) in the process. He threw his hands up, swaying his hips, his eyes were closed, body moving freely. 

Atsumu moved beside Kiyoomi, a bit closer than usual, nudging his elbow. They exchanged looks and amused smiles before turning back to watch Keiji.

Keiji opened his eyes, searching for his husband. Bokuto had already fallen into a trance, standing by the booth, smiling, unmoving, eyes on Keiji, face full of newfound wonder. Keiji giggled, moving seductively and beckoning Bokuto to come to him. Bokuto's smile turned feral. He left their jackets on the table and turned around- doing a Michael Jackson impression- making everyone laugh, and walking over to Keiji. 

Everyone's eyes were on them. Nobody dared to join the couple, they were all pleased by just being on the sidelines and watched in admiration. 

"You know what, Omi," Atsumu said, "There was a time I genuinely believe that Akaashi is so out of Bokuto's league."

Bokuto grabbed Keiji's jaw and smothered his face with kisses. Keiji was sporting a blissed-out smile when his husband released him. They stared at each other lovingly and it was perfect until Bokuto started to do the Pogo Dance, grinning at Keiji who burst out laughing.

"But now I can, hands down, admit. They're perfect."

As someone who lived next to Bokuto, as someone who had heard the couple having a serious verbal fight over who was the better James Bond and had gotten a glimpse of them slow dancing in the balcony two hours later, Kiyoomi nodded. "I agree." 

"They're the main characters, Omi, I'm telling you." Atsumu pointed at Inunaki, "Inunaki's a tree and his friends are sentimentary stones—"

"You mean sedimentary rocks?"

"—Thomas is a tree, a taller tree but still a tree. His girlfriend's a dragonfly. Hinata is just a cricket."

The last one made Kiyoomi laugh, "Alright, I know they're having a moment-"

"They're not just having a moment, they run the whole scene."

"–but you can't just decide that Hinata's a cricket."

"Oh, you're concerned about Hinata? Inunaki's friends are stones."

Kiyoomi completely lost it. He covered his mouth with his palm as he laughed, turning away from Atsumu. "I can't." he managed to let out in between laughs. He cleared his throat right after his laughing fit. "What about you?" he asked, "What are you?" to which Atsumu just raised a brow. "Another tree? What do you wanna be?"

Atsumu bit his bottom lip. He took his time and smiled, "We're gonna be the main characters in another movie. You and me." He picked up his jacket from the floor and retrieved the wine glass from Kiyoomi’s hand. "Let's go?" He asked, looking at Kiyoomi over his shoulder before turning to the door and leading them out.

Kiyoomi followed, the sound from the dining hall getting fainter and fainter as they moved away.

**11:57 pm**

"You need to learn how to dance, Omi-Kun. If you ask nicely, I might give you free lessons." Atsumu said as they shuffled to the car park.

"I do know how to dance. I'm pretty good at it." Kiyoomi said mindlessly.

Atsumu turned to him, "Why didn't you show us?"

Kiyoomi made a face. "Why would I show you? I don't like attention, thanks."

"That sounds like a lie, Omi." Atsumu said, tilting his head to the side. "I'm starting to think you're a fraud."

"What."

"I don't know, Omi." Atsumu stood beside Kiyoomi’s car. "You have to show me. It's hard to believe anything you say after the Beatles incident."

Kiyoomi knew better than to take the bait but he ended up showing him anyway. He lifelessly did the running man dance for two seconds. "Happy?"

"Wha— ? You didn't do shit." Atsumu complained, the corner of his mouth curving but he sucked his cheek in before it could turn into a smile.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. "Alright, you start."

Atsumu was up for it, putting away the wine and the glasses on the roof of the car and doing a more decent version of running man. He did a bit of robot dance, too, before pointing at Kiyoomi. If there was anyone who could match Atsumu’s competitiveness, it’d be him. Honestly, he was only a bit tipsy but he threw the rest of his inhibitions away just to humor his setter. He did the robot dance. Kiyoomi would never show this side of himself to anyone but he was promised a main role, he was willing to do this much in return. His dignity was on the line but he’d let Atsumu indulge for a while, let him laugh to his heart’s content. In the end, it was Atsumu who begged him to stop and led him to the driver’s seat.

“Omi,” Atsumu called as he settled in the passenger’s seat. “You can’t dance.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi shrugged, biting his lip. “Well.”

They listened to the Beatles again on their way home, it was Atsumu who skipped the songs as he looked at Kiyoomi pointedly. Kiyoomi chose to ignore him.

They drove quietly, Kiyoomi humming the tune absentmindedly, pretending he didn’t notice the glances being thrown his way. It was when they were halfway home when Atsumu stopped being subtle and stared at him openly. Kiyoomi looked over and stared back a second too long when Atsumu smiled, a flicker of something dancing across his features.

Kiyoomi pulled his gaze back to the road. “What’s on your mind, Atsumu?” he asked because he had absolutely no idea what he was thinking and how his mind works and at that moment, he was dying to know.

“If I play my cards right, I might get a kiss from you tonight,” Atsumu said. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

There was an onslaught of emotions driving right through Kiyoomi’s heart but for now, he refused to name any of them. He gripped the leather of the steering wheel a tad tighter, “Got any aces left?”

“None.” Atsumu whispered, “It’s all up to luck from now on.”

The last bit was delivered with a voice so quiet, Kiyoomi would've missed it if he wasn’t paying utmost attention, and maybe he wasn’t supposed to hear it in the first place, because it somehow sounded like a wish that only the stars were allowed to hear.

He racked his brain for a response, but it came up with nothing. So he shut his mouth and focused on driving, pretending his pulse wasn’t picking up speed. 

“At the last intersection,” Atsumu spoke again a few moments later. “Ifwedon'tgetcaughtinaredlightlet’skiss.”

“What?” Kiyoomi asked but the idiot never repeated what he said, he just fidgeted in his seat and started biting his nails. “What?” They were approaching the intersection Atsumu mentioned and they were far but he could spot the lights were steady green. It was chill and all until the lights turned yellow. “You’re a fucking dumbass, Miya.” The road was clear, Kiyoomi floored it. “How can you leave something as huge as this to chance?!” 

They drove past the intersection and Kiyoomi could only squeeze the steering wheel in exasperation and relief... He breathed heavily through his nose until they reached the apartment, hitting the brakes hastily. “Get out.” he told Atsumu as soon as they came to a full stop. Kiyoomi got out of the car first, he walked in long strides, he was already climbing the stairs when Atsumu caught up to him.

**12:21 am**

He was standing in front of his door when he started asking himself what got him so worked up. He’d gotten better at keeping his mental turmoils and panicked emotions at bay but Atsumu just....

Atsumu was holding the wine but the glasses and his jacket were nowhere to be seen. He leaned against the door, his spine aligned to the door frame. He looked at Kiyoomi with a small, hopeful smile.

And Kiyoomi... Kiyoomi wanted to smack his head.

"Can I touch you?"

It was Kiyoomi who asked.

"You never had to ask." Atsumu said as he blinked at him slowly. "I'm always, always close enough to touch, Omi."

Kiyoomi reached out one hand tentatively, running his fingers along Atsumu’s jaw before cupping his face, and there was something about how Atsumu leaned towards his hand with his eyes closed that stirred Kiyoomi up. 

Atsumu then ran his forefinger across Kiyoomi’s side, stopping at the waistband of his pants. He hooked his finger through his belt hole and slowly pulled him closer until their hips touched. He tugged him once, twice, before looking up again. "Kiss."

Kiyoomi pulled away.

Atsumu let go of his waist instantly, disappointment flickered through his eyes but he blinked it away. He was about to step away but Kiyoomi grabbed his hand and quickly opened the door.

If he slammed and pinned Atsumu against the door the moment it shut closed just like those cliche movie scenes then fuck it, nobody was there to witness it. He had one palm spread on Atsumu's collarbone, his thumb digging into the bass of his neck, pushing him hard. Atsumu, still holding the stupid wine, tilted his head up and Kiyoomi stared, thoroughly enthralled by how Atsumu’s features fit his whole being perfectly. Kiyoomi stared some more, trying to commit the view to his memory. His fried hair, wild eyes and open mouth that was sucking the air Kiyoomi was letting out, Atsumu was perfect looking like this and Kiyoomi, 

Kiyoomi was a bit jealous of people who got to see Atsumu in this state. 

"I fucking hate you." he said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah?" Atsumu murmured, "I want you too. So come here."

  
Kiyoomi was not a nineteen-year-old girl but he was not made of steel either, so did what he was told. He moved his face closer, closing the gap and pressing his lips on the corner of Atsumu's mouth, and he lingered there for a hot second, feeling Atsumu's lips curved into a smile.

  
"I'm fucking dying here, Omi." he whispered, voice shaking, "I'm setting this whole neighborhood on fire if you don't kiss me properly." 

  
The threat didn’t faze him, they were nothing but empty words spoken quietly that even the walls in the entryway would fail to register. Atsumu could’ve easily chase his lips but he didn’t, he just stood there, waiting, his bottom lip was ridiculously plump and just by being this near, Kiyoomi felt like he was holding a fork over a socket, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to get a shock every once in a while, right? 

  
He kissed Atsumu with a closed mouth, gentle pecks over his bottom lip, and feeling Atsumu’s hand ghosting over the small of his back. “It’s okay.” he said in between kisses, “You can.” 

  
Right after being allowed to do so, Atsumu wasted no time pulling him close, dropping the wine to free his hand and wrapping his arms around Kiyoomi. 

  
He’d never gotten this close to someone in a while, feeling someone else’s warmth pressing deliciously against his body made him gasp and Atsumu, the bastard, stuck his tongue inside his mouth immediately while rubbing his crotch against Kiyoomi.

  
He pulled Atsumu away from the door and without breaking the kiss, they blindly dragged each other to the living room. They kissed like lovers that’d been in love with each other for years and it was fucking ridiculous because Kiyoomi had assumed Atsumu would give aggressive kisses, the type where teeth collide but no, he kissed him like he got all the time in the world. 

  
Kiyoomi slowly laid down on the sofa, pulling Atsumu down with him, and he was heavy and their position wasn’t quite right and the tv remote was crying under his shoulder blade and it was cramped and it was getting kinda hard to breathe but Atsumu was kissing his forehead and Kiyoomi wasn’t a nineteen-year-old girl but at the moment, he felt like he was.

  
“Omi, how do you want me?” Atsumu asked as he rubbed his nose over Kiyoomi’s ear. “Do you want me to take a shower?” he trailed open mouth kisses over Kiyoomi’s jaw before pushing himself, only far enough to get a better look at him. “I need you to tell me the rules, Omi.”

  
Atsumu was waiting for him but Kiyoomi just laid there, gaping like fish out of water. His senses zeroed in on the hard dick that was pressing against the inside of his thigh, an inch away from his own, and Atsumu had just asked him if wanted him to take a shower? 

  
_Well, shit_. He grabbed Atsumu by the back of his neck, pulling him down and guiding him back to his jaw to where Atsumu happily swiped his tongue over. Kiyoomi’s stared at the ceiling, praying to God, all the saints and his dead relatives. _I hope I don't fall—_

  
-

  


**3 ½ months later, Sept 21**

**02:16 am**

  
Kiyoomi was lying on the sofa, balancing an empty bottle of wine on his forehead. Well, it wasn't really empty, there was a rolled piece of paper inside.

  
_What part of 'come home' did he not understand?_

  
It was past two in the morning and Atsumu was drunk somewhere.

  
_He isn't sleeping with someone else right now, is he?_

  
It wasn't like he was waiting for him, but the second hand of the wall clock was ticking a bit louder as time passed and okay, maybe he was waiting for him, and he was getting anxious and, _who the fuck gave him the right to stress me out like this?_

  
Kiyoomi grabbed the bottle, raising it to block the light coming from the kitchen. "How many secrets can you keep?" he asked the wine bottle. "Do you have room for one more—" Kiyoomi got up when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He went to the kitchen and hid the bottle in the cabinet under the sink before walking to the door, and in the entryway, he stood and waited. He almost pulled his hair when he heard the footsteps walking away but it came back immediately, his faith in Miya Atsumu slightly restored. 

  
He opened the door on the second knock. "Took you long enough." he said, crossing his arms. "Aren't you coming in?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** DONT DRINK AND DRIVE PLEASE i condemn DUI it's an offense and please NO.
> 
> But why is Kiyoomi talking to a bottle of wine it doesnt make sense rn but it will when i post the 2nd half (chapter 6)  
> btw im not very good at writing but i can clearly imagine seeing Atsumu walking towards Omi while [Just like heaven](https://open.spotify.com/track/4NnWuGQujzWUEg0uZokO5M) by the cure plays in the bg putangina T_____T but i listened to [I Always Knew](https://open.spotify.com/track/6E3NosMXYlGD21K7KqIxQ1) by the Vaccines while writing omi's pov. the whole song is his pov, tbh.


	5. ATSUMU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yesterday i read all the comments under the prev chapter and thankyou guys :// yall so sweet :// your comments made me sit and type this 7k but i just finished this chap today a lot of typo and grammar mistake as always. if u think this isn't making sense the door is on the upper right of your screen just close the tab ok huhu

* * *

Atsumu trailed behind Kiyoomi, keeping a safe distance because it seemed like the spiker was not in the mood for any of his nightly bullshitry. Kiyoomi flipped the switch on as they stepped into the bathroom. He retrieved Atsumu’s hair stuff from the cabinet and laid them down beside the sink. Atsumu stripped his clothes off quietly, leaving the pile on the floor and rushing to grab the hem of Kiyoomi’s shirt when the latter was about to step out.

“Where are you going?” Atsumu asked. He was stripped down to his boxers.

Kiyoomi looked at him, “You’re not blind drunk. You can handle showering by yourself, can’t you?”

Winter came early, Atsumu thought as he registered the coldness of Kiyoomi’s tone. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, shoulder dropping when Kiyoomi’s face remained blank. “Why are you mad at me? What did I do?” Atsumu asked, but Kiyoomi said nothing, he just crossed his arms. Atsumu didn’t like that, he hated it when Kiyoomi did that because he looked very upset and distant, and untouchable, and no, no, no. Kiyoomi should have his arms spread wide open for him. Atsumu disentangled the crossed arms, bending over and planting his forehead on Kiyoomi’s chest until his knees gave out, he ungracefully plopped down on the cold bathroom floor. Sighing, he pulled Kiyoomi by the back of his knee and brushed his nose over Kiyoomi’s thigh. He stayed there with his eyes closed and thought about why his spiker was mad at him, brows furrowing when his brain provided a limitless range of possibilities, _I mean, yeah, I’m insufferable most of the time but,_ he needed to pinpoint what exactly he’d done, but then he got sleepy because it was two-thirty in the morning and oh, Atsumu looked up, “I didn’t know. Omi, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” he said in a hurry, shaking Kiyoomi’s leg. 

Kiyoomi looked away, “Get up.”

“I’ve had my fill of liquor before midnight,” Atsumu said, still sprawled on the floor. “I swear if I knew you were waiting for me and my dick I should’ve gone home immediately I shouldn’t have joined that stupid game-”

“What game?”

“The birthday boy wanted to find out who has the highest alcohol tolerance-”

“Did you win?”

Atsumu smiled, noting that Kiyoomi’s tone wasn’t as pissed as before. “Of course.” he proudly said.

“Good. Now, get up.” Kiyoomi said and tapped the sink.

He looked up at Kiyoomi and saw nothing but the blinding lights making a halo above Kiyoomi’s head. “Give me a second.” It made him dizzy, he looked back down and hugged Kiyoomi’s leg. “Damn Tsukki and his endless Adios Motherfuckers. That mix always hit me late.”

Atsumu felt fingertips massaging the back of his head and it was so nice, he always looked forward to this, to Kiyoomi and his gentle hands. Wouldn’t it be nice to have this forever? It’d be nice to have someone take care of you when you were rotting like a vegetable on the bathroom floor like this. Atsumu was so grateful for Kiyoomi. What would he do without Kiyoomi? He wanted to be with Kiyoomi forever. Should they get married? They should, right? Maybe raise a golden retriever together. Damn, he loved Kiyoomi so much- _what_? Atsumu inhaled and leaned back, pushing himself away from Kiyoomi. “What the fuck.” he clutched his chest and laughed, nervous and a little breathless. He felt like he went through several stages of sleep and got stuck in a dream where he loved Kiyoomi and stayed in that kind of limbo for a while until he felt like he was falling off a cliff-

‘You look like you woke up from a nightmare.” Kiyoomi said in an amused tone.

Atsumu stood up and sat on the sink. He wasn’t able to respond, he was a little bit tongue-tied. He couldn’t believe his brain, like, seriously, _I spaced out for one second, one goddamn second and you started admitting shit on your own. I told you we gotta suppress this, whatever this is, brain, listen to me, you fucking idiot-_

“Do you know why we wake up when we’re about to die in a dream?” Kiyoomi asked as he sifted through the cabinet behind Atsumu. He pulled the green toothbrush that Atsumu had been using since June, putting a generous amount of toothpaste on it before handing it to Atsumu.

Atsumu who was now seated on the sink, still a little disoriented from his mental battles, pulled Kiyoomi closer until he was standing between his thighs. He locked Kiyoomi in place, wrapping his legs around his waist, “No idea. Why does that happen?” he asked and instead of taking his toothbrush, he held Kiyoomi’s wrist and guided it up to his mouth after baring his teeth.

Kiyoomi sighed, but this was a part of their routine by now, so he proceeded to brush Atsumu’s teeth. “Someone on the internet said,'' he started, grabbing Atsumu’s jaw and tugging it down so he could brush the inside of his mouth. “Our brain has no knowledge of what it's like after death, it won’t be able to provide any image. Afterlife is beyond its realms so it kicks us awake.”

Every word that ever came out of Kiyoomi’s mouth was just so pleasant to hear. He could tell Atsumu that the earth is flat and he’d definitely nod, believe, and even back him up. Even ‘you’re an idiot’ sounded endearing now. ‘Leave me alone’, angelic. ‘You’re insufferable, the fucking worst’, majestic, it deserves a round of applause. But Atsumu loved hearing him speak especially during alone moments like this, despite the fact that he was manhandling Atsumu face, sticking the toothbrush everywhere. 

Atsumu leaned sideways, moving near the sink so he could rinse his mouth. When he was done, Kiyoomi pulled him back and wiped his mouth. Atsumu smiled. “You’re so smart, Omi-omi,” he said but Kiyoomi was out of sight. 

A few seconds later, Kiyoomi came back with a towel and the robe that Atsumu started using in June. “It was something I read, Atsumu. It's not even backed by science. It’s just someone else’s theory that I find interesting.” he handed him the towel and the robe, both smelled like citrus. 

“Yeah, but when it’s you,” Atsumu paused because Kiyoomi was leaning in for a kiss but stopping a few inches away, his mouth hovering over Atsumu’s lips. 

“When it’s me?” Kiyoomi murmured, his breath brushing Atsumu’s cheek.

Atsumu bent forward, chasing Kiyoomi’s lips but never making contact. “When it’s you, it’s…” their mouths danced over each other’s face slowly, edging, tempting, it was like a weird ritual but Atsumu’s dick grew embarrassingly hard just from it. 

“When it's me, it’s?” Kiyoomi asked again and Atsumu was getting impatient.

“I forgot what I was saying,” he admitted because, fuck, if Kiyoomi started ghost kissing you, your brain just shuts down. 

Kiyoomi pulled away, the fucking tease.

Atsumu’s intoxicated senses ran half a second late but he was quick enough to grab Kiyoomi’s wrist. “Quit it,” he whined, pulling Kiyoomi back and guiding his hand to his crotch. “Kiss,”

The spiker palmed his dick over his boxers, making Atsumu groan and drop his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. Kiyoomi’s other hand found its way to Atsumu’s head, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling and tilting his head back up. Kiyoomi abandoned his crotch to shove two fingers inside Atsumu’s mouth, filthy sucking sounds filled the room for a few seconds before the spiker pulled his fingers out, replacing it with his tongue and fuck, _finally_. Kiyoomi’s other hand found their way back to his crotch, shoving it inside and past the waistband of his boxers, fingertips wet with spit brushed over the head of his cock, spreading his precum around and Atsumu, 

Atsumu couldn’t take it anymore. He gently pushed Kiyoomi away, taking a deep breath like he just got out of the water. He hopped down from the sink, one hand grabbing his towel and robe, one hand holding his hard, heavy dick. 

“Omi, give me five minutes,” he said as he stepped in the shower, running the water and jerking away when it was too cold.

“Wash your hair thoroughly. It smells like smoke.” Kiyoomi reminded before leaving him in the bathroom.

Atsumu adjusted the water temperature before stepping under the shower again. They could’ve proceeded but it’d be much nicer and it’d be much enjoyable and comfortable for Kiyoomi if he washed up first, so he shampooed his hair quickly, determined to finish washing up in record time but pausing as he stared at the bath sponges, _which one is mine again?_

“Omi, what color is my loofah?” he asked and it was the stupidest question ever because there were two bath sponges and both were pink.

“Pink.”

He shrugged and used both.

When he was done, he quickly toweled his hair and wore the robe. He considered drying his hair but he was too lazy, he decided against it. He wrapped a towel around his head and moved to the bedroom where he found Kiyoomi standing in front of his closet, pulling a pair of pajamas and tossing it to the bedside table for Atsumu to change into later.

“Done?”

He hummed and walked over to Kiyoomi. He stood behind him, burying his face in the back of his neck and wrapping his arms around his torso. He slid his hands under Kiyoomi’s shirt, muscles hardening under his palm, and moving his hands all the way up, thumbs flicking over Kiyoomi’s nipples. Kiyoomi tilted his head up and moved slightly to the side, giving Atsumu access to the side of his neck. Atsumu lapped over the sensitive skin, licking, sucking, running his tongue flat over the back of Kiyoomi’s ear while moving his hands down, sliding inside Kiyoomi’s shorts and palming his cock with both hands.

“It’s crazy how not even an hour ago, I was having a mental breakdown in front of your door, thinking of ways how to convince you to have sex with me for one last time. And now we’re her-”

Kiyoomi turned around. “So this is gonna be the last time?” he asked, pulling Atsumu’s hand out of his underwear.

Kiyoomi’s tone made it seem like Atsumu had said a terrible thing. Atsumu blinked, his drunk neurons panicking. _no. a moment ago, my brain just admitted that I wanna raise a golden retriever with you, so, no_. “Omi, if it’s up to me, I'm gonna do this again tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and the day after that.” He grabbed Kiyoomi’s ass, “I see myself doing this next week. Next month.” _next year, too, maybe for the rest of my life but that would sound like a proposal, so let’s shut the fuck up._

Kiyoomi’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he stared at Atsumu, expression unsure, his eyes searching for something, for the truth, maybe? And Atsumu kept wishing he’d find it immediately or else, Atsumu was gonna die of cardiac arrest by the way his heart was pounding in his temple, and that was fucking weird, why was his heart climbed up his head?

A pregnant moment passed before Kiyoomi nodded. “Alright.”

Atsumu sighed in relief. “Alright? So you’re agreeing to this? We’re gonna have sex now and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night-”

“Well, not tomorrow,” Kiyoomi said. “I mean we can keep doing what we do as long as I-, as long as we don’t catch feelings, right?”

Atsumu blinked, his drunk neurons were still panicking. _Omi, I’m afraid I already caught some._ “Right.” _I've caught a lot, actually_. “And as long as one of us is drunk. Omi, you’re-, I mean we are one sober sex away from being in love with each other.” 

There was a flash of something across Kiyoomi’s face but it was gone before Atsumu had the chance to read it. “We gotta keep that in mind,” he said softly. He looked like he had something more to say so Atsumu waited, sensing that Kiyoomi was having a mental battle, too. He was about to ask Kiyoomi what he was thinking and if he had anything to say but Kiyoomi stepped back. He took his shirt off and held Atsumu’s hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling him towards the bed.

______

“Tsum tsum, do you need help?”

Atsumu glanced back from his crouched position, seeing Bokuto and Akaashi smiling down at him. “It’s okay. I got it,” he said, eyes lingering on the couple’s intertwined fingers. He picked up the box and made his way to the stairs.

“That’s a lot.” he heard Bokuto say, they were trailing behind him. “Are you inviting friends over tonight?”

Atsumu climbed slowly as he waited for his brain to come up with a lie. “Yeah but not tonight,” he said as he reached the second floor. “My brother is visiting next weekend.” and then he realized one person visiting wasn’t enough to justify what he was carrying. “As well as some high school friends,” he added as he fetched his keys despite knowing his door was unlocked. “Feel free to come over, yeah?” he glanced back at the couple.

“Cool.” Bokuto nodded excitedly while Keiji smiled as they walked past him. “What if I invite Kuroo and Kenma here right now?”

“Kou, we just had lunch with them.”

“Yeah, but they’re going back to Tokyo tomorrow morning.”

Atsumu pushed his door open with his foot.

“We’ll invite them for dinner if you want but can I please have you alone this afternoon?”

“Oh, Keiji!!! I love it when you’re clingy like th-”

Atsumu stepped inside and shut his door silently. He laid the fourth box of canned beer above the first three. He stood there, staring at the boxes and contemplating his life decisions. He spaced out for a while and was only brought back to the present when his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

**_Tbh i thought i’d wake up to chaos today but it’s already 2 in the afternoon and really? Lol. As a token of appreciation im sending u a fruit basket!!_ **

**_Am i your favorite jackal now?_ **

**_Nope. Haha. You're in 2nd place tho!!_**

__________

He received a basket of pears three days later. He wasn’t a fan the fruit but he knew someone who could eat a dozen of them in just one sitting. He took a quick shower first before opening the basket, taking half of the fruits out and replacing it with half a dozen of beer. He brought the basket to Kiyoomi’s.

He found Kiyoomi in the kitchen, peeling a pear. Only then he noticed a basket of them on the dining table identical to the one he got. 

“You got one, too?”

Kiyoomi hummed in response.

Atsumu placed the basket on the table, “She talked about giving me one as a reward, she made it seem like a reward but she sent pears to everyone else, too, huh.” He leaned over Kiyoomi’s shoulder and smiled when he saw he already peeled half a dozen of them. He tried to steal one but Kiyoomi smacked his hand. “I brought half of mine??” 

The spiker turned around, spotting Atsumu’s basket. “Fine.” he said and shove a slice into Atsumu’s mouth.

Atsumu grabbed a beer, not bothering to offer one to Kiyoomi knowing the latter didn’t like drinking it, so he loaded the rest in the fridge. He made his way to the living room, scanning through tv channels, and fixing it on some survival show.

Kiyoomi followed, carrying a bowl of sliced pears. He sat on the sofa, his back against the armrest and his legs on Atsumu’s lap.

Atsumu played with Kiyoomi’s knee while the latter fed him pears. They watched bad tv for a while until it was time for the late-night news- they somehow developed a habit of watching it together. 

“You drunk yet?” Kiyoomi asked, nudging Atsumu’s side with his foot.

Atsumu was 188cm tall and 80kg heavy, he needed at least a dozen beers before he got properly drunk but he only brought six. Atsumu was only on his 5th beer but he was not about to walk back to his apartment to fetch more. “I think I need one more,” he said, looking at Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi looked back at him while shoving a slice of pear in his mouth, he seemed like he knew Atsumu was half lying, but in the next commercial break, it was him who stood up to get the last beer from his fridge. He dropped it in Atsumu’s lap. “Hurry up,” he said before disappearing to his bedroom. The door was left wide open.

___________

Atsumu suffered the consequences of the lie he had told when Bokuto and Hinata showed up in front of his unit the next weekend. It was Saturday afternoon, he just got home after spending the previous night at Kiyoomi’s, and he was a bit hungover. He let the two jackals in without much thought, seeing Bokuto holding a CD that probably was a copy of their televised game and thinking maybe they just wanted to watch it with him.

“So where’s everybody?” Bokuto asked as soon as he settled in the living room.

Atsumu had no idea what he was talking about. Bokuto who was already sitting comfortably on the sofa blinked at him. Atsumu who was standing in the middle of the living room and the kitchen blinked back. He paused and spaced out for five long seconds before he finally caught up. “Oh. Uhm. They canceled.” he lied for the second time because that was what you gotta do to override the first one.

“Wooh!! Asian pears!!” he heard Hinata cheer in the kitchen.

“Awww, too bad!!” Bokuto said, waving the CD he was holding. “I brought my copy of our semifinals game against the Falcons last season.”

“Nice.” Hinata appeared carrying a bowl containing the rest of Atsumu’s pears and, _is that a knife?_

“Shoyou-kun, I have a peeler,” Atsumu said, but Hinata shook his head.

Bokuto was turning his TV on while Hinata was seated on the living floor, peeling pears with a kitchen knife. “Using a knife is much easier and faster. Watch.” Hinata made a show of peeling the unsuspecting fruit, his first move almost cutting the pear in half.

Atsumu looked away, deciding he was too hungover to deal with Bokuto and his disciple. 

“Bokkun, beer’s in the fridge.” he said, knowing that was what they came for. “Help yourselves.” 

He sent Kiyoomi a text before entering the bathroom to take a shower.

**_Do you wanna watch our most epic game last season?_ **

**_The one against Aran’s team?_ **

**_Yep. Bokkuns watching it now here in my apt_ **

**_Pass._ **

**_Why is Bokuto there_ **

**_Idk they invited themselves_ **

**_They who_ **

**_12, 21_ **

Atsumu just got out of the shower and was toweling his hair when he stepped out of his room. If he was surprised to see Kiyoomi sitting on a single chair in his living room, then he had time to recover because the spiker’s attention was on the TV screen. Atsumu stopped and leaned against the doorframe.

“The Falcons were such a nightmare to play against,” Bokuto recalled.

Only when Kiyoomi pulled his attention away from the game to agree with what Bokuto said had he noticed Atsumu. Atsumu quietly stepped back inside his bedroom without releasing Kiyoomi’s eyes. They maintained eye contact as the game commentator talked about Atsumu and Aran being teammates in high school. Kiyoomi looked away and spent five seconds looking blankly at the screen before standing up and excusing himself. 

They made out just behind Atsumu’s bedroom door. He had Kiyoomi’s tongue brushing the roof of his mouth while his hands found their way inside Kiyoomi’s shirt, nails scratching his back. Kiyoomi nuzzled his temple, murmuring about how Atsumu smelled good all the time and licking his way down Atsumu’s throat. They stopped themselves eventually when they noticed that they had gotten hard just by grinding against each other. They both waited for their cocks to calmed down, laughing while shaking their heads disappointedly at each other because they just had sex 12 hours ago, for fuck’s sake.

They stole at least ten more pecks to each other's lips before they stepped out, Atsumu stopping again by the door frame when he met eyes with Inunaki who was now sitting on the chair that Kiyoomi previously occupied. Kiyoomi pushed him gently so he could walk past the door and made his way to the kitchen, Atsumu’s eyes followed him, wondering how the fuck did Kiyoomi stay so hopelessly oblivious to Inunaki’s paparazzi eyes. Atsumu exhaled and joined his team in the living room while trying so hard to ignore Inunaki who was giving him a naughty look.

________

Atsumu had little to zero problems going to practice while suffering from a hangover. Sure, he could get a lot moody than usual but as soon as he was done with warm-ups, he could feel himself sweat the previous night’s alcohol out of his body, and from then onwards, he’d be able to perform normally if not better. 

It was a different story with Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi would deadass frown at everyone in the morning, he’d frown so hard like they’d done something terrible. Sometimes he’d look at them like they were a bunch of pubic hair sticking stubbornly over the shower drain. One time, he even scowled at the faultless PR staff who only wanted to take a supposed ‘candid’ picture of the team drinking a sponsored energy drink.

By midafternoon he’d ask for someone to receive his services, the jackals had discreetly come up with an organized system of how to randomly choose a volunteer. They’d play rock paper scissors when Kiyoomi wasn’t looking, and whoever lost, they’d play receiver that day.

Everyone else except Atsumu had absolutely zero idea when they’d get hit with Kiyoomi’s weird mood but Inunaki, the spy from hell, figured it out only after two weeks. 

“He said his head is pounding,” Inunaki said as he sat on the floor, “You better tone it down today,” he warned, looking pointedly at Bokuto and Hinata. Bokuto gave a thumbs up while Hinata gave an okay sign.

“Is it migraine?” Meian asked.

“It’s not,” Inunaki said. “He probably had too much to drink last night.”

Meian straightened up, his nose scrunching, “He’s not the type to get pissed drunk on a weeknight.”

Atsumu felt responsible for Kiyoomi’s newly developed habit and thus, he accepted the fact that he shouldn’t only get the benefits of it, but should also deal with the aftermaths. He volunteered to receive the balls from the former college MVP, and now one of the nation’s nastiest servers.

_____________

“Omi-kun?” Atsumu called as he entered Kiyoomi’s bedroom. Kiyoomi was sleeping peacefully with his mouth slightly open. He breathed through his mouth sometimes but that information was something Atsumu would keep to himself, he already knew how Kiyoomi would deny it if Atsumu ever spoke of it.

“Omi-omi~” he sang before leaning down to pepper kisses around Kiyoomi’s open mouth. Kiyoomi grunted, eyebrows furrowing as he pushed him away. “It’s already 6 in the morning. How are you still asleep?”

“Because it’s 6 in the morning. The fuck are you doing here?” 

It was hard to take Kiyoomi’s foul language seriously when he was stretching like a cat under sunlight. He watched his sleepy Omi for a moment before he remembered his goal for barging in early in the morning.

“Omi, you have to lend me a jacket.”

“I _have_ to?”

“Yeah.” he had already opened Kiyoomi’s closet. “I haven’t got the time to do my laundry. Can I borrow this one?” He pulled a black windbreaker and showed it to the owner.

“Isn’t it Friday today? We have practice. Where are you going?” 

Atsumu turned around, extra slow for dramatics, and faced Kiyoomi who was pushing himself up to a sitting position in the middle of his bed. “Omi, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I’m going home today.” he ended it with a pout, slightly disappointed because Kiyoomi forgot his birthday.

The spiker just tilted his head. “Hyogo’s not that far. Why are you leaving this early?”

“We’re gonna have brunch with Kita-san,” Atsumu said, raising the windbreaker. “Can I borrow this?”

Kiyoomi didn’t respond immediately, he just stared at him too long without blinking, Atsumu thought he fell back to sleep with his eyes open. 

“Omi?”

Kiyoomi blinked, finally. “No.”

“Why not?” Atsumu whined and turned back to the closet. “Then, is there anything here that I can borrow?” he asked, scratching his head.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi said. “You can borrow the one at the very end of that rack.”

“Yey. I knew you have a soft spot for me, Omi-kun.” Atsumu said, smiling. He pulled the last hanger from the rack and instantly felt his smile evaporate. “Omi, c’mon.”

“What are you whining about now?”

“This... Eyesore!”

“I’ll even let you keep that.”

Atsumu gave the spiker a deadpanned look. “Thanks but no.”

Kiyoomi reached for his bedside drawer, rummaging through his stuff until he found what he was looking for. He showed Atsumu the coin he was holding.

“Omi, no.”

Kiyoomi had the coin sitting steadily on his thumb.

“You’re the one who told me to never leave anything, literally anything to luck-” Atsumu started but Kiyoomi had sent the coin flying in the air, giving him no chance to argue, “HEADS!”

________________

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Osamu laughed as he rolled the window down. Suna elbowed him from the driver’s seat, sticking an actual camera out to take hundreds of pictures. The sound of the lens snapping kind of reminded him of his dark times when he used to fool around. It was very understandable why he was not the pr manager’s favorite jackal. 

“Shut up.” Atsumu snarled as he settled in the back seat.

“Seriously, though.” Osamu continued to make fun of him.

“Have you seen your fiance’s jersey? Raijin’s color combination is worse.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it.” Osamu laughed. “Why are you even wearing that? Itachiyama’s color is the worst of the worst of the worst-”

“ShUT THE FUCK UP.” 

They pulled away from the apartment, the car bathed in awkward silence for two blocks before Suna released a snort, and that was all it took for them to burst out laughing. 

Atsumu hated the jacket’s blinding color but he was not ashamed to wear it. Because this was Kiyoomi’s. And Kiyoomi was a hell of an ace.

______________

They met Aran and Kita outside their favorite diner in Hyogo. Kita complained about how the four of them had gotten so tall and ordered them to stay behind him and follow his lead like the old times. Kita walked in first, smiling proudly as he led the pack inside the diner. He sat them on the corner booth which was their usual spot, before heading to the counter where the owner’s son, a guy their age, was standing. Kita approached the guy and gushed about them, about how one of them was a food entrepreneur while the three were professional athletes now. He never missed the chance to say that he was their former captain.

“You know, I feel like I haven’t accomplished much but…” Aran paused, gesturing at Kita. “That guy never failed to make me feel like I’ve made it.”

They exchanged looks, the four of them sharing the same sentiment. They smiled at each other meaningfully, Atsumu tapped his brother’s shoulder while Osamu squeezed the back of his neck, hard, but he didn’t let that ruin their moment. It was Suna who ruined it when he initiated a fist bump.

“This is fucking embarrassing,” Atsumu grumbled before giving in, just to get it over with.

They shared another quiet moment before Suna spoke. “But among the five of us, he’s the most accomplished,” he said, thumb pointing at Kita. “He’s feeding Hyogo.”

Atsumu and Aran nodded in agreement as Osamu added, “I have a branch in Osaka and Tokyo. He’s feeding people there, too.”

Kita came back and joined them, sliding in the booth next to him. “I’m done bragging about how successful you all are,” he said, smiling. “Let’s order. I believe it’s the twins’ treat, right?”

They spent two hours in the diner eating and catching up.

Osamu asked for the bill and threw it at Atsumu. Atsumu, of course, threw it back. It'd been a long time since he fought Osamu over petty stuff so they fought some more until Suna interrupted.

“Idiots. Kita snatched the bill.”

They both turned and saw Kita holding the bill and heading to the counter. Osamu immediately got up to chase him.

With Aran still chatting with a friend he bumped into on his way to the restroom, Atsumu was left with Sunarin.

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu hummed as he texted Kiyoomi, asking how was practice without the best setter in Japan before looking up at Rintarou.

“Are you still in love with Kita?” Suna asked casually while popping Osamu’s leftover food into his mouth.

Atsumu tilted his head. “I wasn’t… I was never in love with him,” he said easily.

“You confessed to him twice before he graduated.” Suna chuckled. “Samu and I spent lunchtime listening as you rattled on and on about how much you love him.”

“I do not appreciate you reminding me about my dark past.” 

“You adored him. So much.” 

“I did,” Atsumu admitted as he looked around, searching for Kita. He watched Kita laugh at something Osamu said. “He’s still one of the few people I admire and respect.”

“But you’re not in love with him.”

Atsumu turned and gave Suna a weird look. 

“I just wanna make sure,” Suna said, raising his hands defensively.

Atsumu sighed. “I know I said that but I was wrong, okay? It wasn’t love.” he said, “I was not in love with him.”

“How do you know it was not love?”

_Because I am in love with Kiyoomi now and this is a different kind of heaven and hell compared to what I felt for Kita_. He couldn’t say that, though, so he shut his mouth and ignored Suna.

“You should’ve worn the jacket.”

Atsumu took the jacket off in the car and forgot to put it back on. “If you wanna see me wear it so bad, don’t you worry, I’ll wear it later, alright?” 

“Nevermind.” Suna smiled and waved a hand. “It has lost its purpose now.”

He wanted to ask what it meant but Samu and Kita were already walking towards the door. 

_____________

They went home after that. Suna was with them but now, he wasn’t just tagging along as he did in high school. He was actually a member of their family, given he was going to be a Miya in January and that hit Atsumu like a ton of Class A bricks, again. His parents treated Suna like he was their favorite child and that’d automatically pushed Atsumu down to 3rd place and it sucked.

But Atsumu would turn 25 the next day, he was too old to get pissed over these things. After all, it was just a result of a tiny battle he had given up.

The thing was, ever since they were young, Atsumu strived to beat Osamu at everything, and in many cases that he couldn’t, he’d instantly find another thing in which he could be better than his twin, and making sure that Samu would never be able to catch up. Samu learned to fly a kite? Atsumu would climb the tallest tree in the backyard. Samu learned to play soccer and made many friends through it? Atsumu had gotten so fucking good at Kendama. Volleyball had been the first thing that made them stick together, it was the first thing that made Atsumu want to have his brother by his side, he wanted Osamu there with him, on the same side of the court. 

When Osamu told him he was planning to propose to Sunarin, Atsumu reacted rather negatively. He told Samu that he was too young to marry, he tried to talk his brother out of it but Osamu had made up his mind, telling Atsumu that he was only informing him and that he never asked to hear Atsumu’s fuckboy wisdom. The next day, Atsumu asked himself why he walked out on Samu, he made up several petty reasons but he couldn't justify the way he had acted. He had been friends with Suna for years now and he liked him, he had nothing against him at all. He later realized he was pissed because settling down, getting married, was another destination, and Osamu had advanced so far ahead there was no way he’d be able to catch up. 

_Samu will win this one_ , Atsumu came to accept. _It was a race I’d never care to participate, anyway_ , he added bitterly.

But seeing Samu and Suna’s intertwined hands on the dining table, seeing them give each other a simple peck on the cheeks as the whole family including their grandparents watched a popular primetime drama in the living room, it poked a bad spot in Atsumu.

Samu and Suna, despite being a rundown version of Bokuto and Akaashi in Atsumu’s eyes, both couples showed him something that he had never thought he wanted.

_I want what they have_ , Atsumu came to accept as he wondered how it’d feel like to hold that pale, calloused hand in public.

_____________________

Atsumu was out of it half of the time he was in Hyogo. They celebrated their birthday the usual way, chill, quiet, and strictly close relatives only. His mother introduced him to a woman a year younger than him and left them in the back garden, saying she’ll give them time to get to know each other. The woman whose name Atsumu couldn’t remember talked about herself and he tolerated it for five whole minutes, half-listening to her while staring at the grass and wondering if Kiyoomi remembered to water his golden pothos. His pothos would survive days without water but worrying about it was better than looking for a fuck to give to the woman in front of him. Weirdly, it was Suna who came to his aid at crunch time. Atsumu was about ready to roll on the grass if Suna hadn’t called time out.

Atsumu sneaked out a bottle of rum from his father’s collection moments before they were scheduled to leave. Snorting, he thought there was a fucked up metaphor somewhere when he used Kiyoomi’s jacket to wrap it up. He started taking a swig straight from the bottle during their car ride back to Osaka, and thankfully, Samu and Suna were considerate enough to not question him.

**_Where's my happy birthday to the best setter ever_ **

**_Happy birthday_ **

**_To the best setter ever. Am i not the best setter ever? Nvm. my birthday was yesterday. Your greeting is one whole day late_ **

**_Come over_ **

Atsumu took another swig of rum.

They had sex for the 22nd time that night.

*

Wednesday night in the same week, Atsumu invited the team to his apartment. He said it was a late birthday celebration but it was really just an excuse to get drunk. He had been having drunk sex with Kiyoomi consistently, and somehow, he felt like they were gaining a weird momentum. He wanted to do it all the time, it was driving him nuts. He was no doubt willing to risk liver failure for it. But he was trying to get something from Kiyoomi, he was craving for something and plenty of sex couldn't pacify him anymore.

The 23rd time happened in his apartment that night.

Atsumu tried to convince himself that everything was fine as he wet a towel in his bathroom sink. He walked back to his bedroom and stared at Kiyoomi who was drunk, naked, spent and asleep in his bed. He gently wiped their mess off of Kiyoomi’s skin. _You get to have him like this anytime you want_ , he told himself, _what more could you ask from him?_

Atsumu suffered from insomnia that night. The rest of the team suffered from Kiyoomi’s mood swings the next morning.

*

It took him one and a half months to admit that none of it was fine.

Atsumu came to Onigiri Miya to demand the rum that Osamu confiscated right before dropping him off at his apartment one and a half months ago. Osamu gave it to him without any delay but with a condition that he’d consume the liquor there so he could drive him home after.

“You remember when we were freshmen,” Osamu started, “When you couldn’t get the hang of setting the ball accurately because the third years refused to practice with you, you ranted about it to Aran. One of the third years heard you two talking about how you’ll both play professionally someday, and the third years laughed at you, saying there was no chance for that to happen. One of them said you’ll probably end up working in retail because you’re cute. Aran kept quiet. But you, you talked back.” Osamu smiled. “Do you remember what you said?”

Atsumu tilted his head, seeing two Osamu in front of him. He was kinda drunk now.

“What did I say?”

“‘I decide what I become.’” Osamu said.

“I decide what I become,” Atsumu repeated, remembering that yes, he definitely said that. He looked up to the ceiling and smiled to himself. “I was so cool, huh.”

“Yep. But when did you decide you wanna be an alcoholic?”

Atsumu frowned at his brother. “You don’t understand.” 

“That thing is going to ruin you,” Osamu said, pointing at the bottle.

“Wrong.” Atsumu took the bottle and hugged it close to his chest. “This is what’s keeping me together.”

Osamu just gave him a tired but concerned look. Suna arrived moments later, taking a seat in front of Atsumu. Osamu disappeared to do actual work, leaving him and Suna in the back office.

Suna was a good company. He just sat there, scanning magazines, pouting at a few pages. He didn’t talk like Osamu. He didn’t talk at all, he just let Atsumu drink his rum quietly. Suna wasn’t half bad, so when he was done and Suna offered to drive him home, he easily agreed.

Suna was bad.

No. He was worse than Samu.

“I had a moment with Nana last time.” Suna said, referring to Atsumu’s grandmother as they got in the car. “She still refers to you as the louder twin.”

It seemed like it was just a passing thought, something Suna just mentioned nonchalantly. But somehow it managed to fuck with Atsumu the entire ride home. He was the louder twin, indeed. Osamu had spent more time playing outside and made more friends but he was still quiet as fuck. Atsumu had played alone but it always sounded like there was a group of three by how loud he talked to himself. He didn’t care whether the people around him were willing to listen or not, Atsumu would scream, yell, rant, and talk, simply because he couldn’t keep things to himself. He had always been loud.

Atsumu stared at Suna, once again realizing how good of a schemer he was.

_Suna Rintarou._

He had been a master of dark psychology ever since they knew each other. He could plant an idea in your head with just a couple of words. The next thing you knew, you were out there doing dumb shit and he’d be on the sidelines taking pictures to document it.

Atsumu chuckled. Suna kept his eyes on the road.

“See what I did there?” the schemer said with a jaunty grin.

Atsumu ran his hands through his hair, smiling. “I was the louder twin, huh.”

“You were.” 

“I never do things quietly, huh.”

“Never.”

Atsumu rolled his window down. He let the coldness of the late November air numb his face, sticking his tongue out to taste the last of autumn.

They started in summer when the trees were green, thick, and youthful. Now they were bare, old, and unhappy. Maybe the last leaf would fall tonight, and maybe the first snow would fall tomorrow. Surely, he could pluck a metaphor from between those lines for what he was about to do.

When they pulled up, Atsumu glanced down at the bottle of rum between his feet. There was still a quarter left. In the end, he decided to leave it there and got out of the car.

He was already two steps away when he heard Suna call his name. He turned around and barked a laugh when he saw Suna holding his hand out of the window for a fistbump. 

“Go away,” Atsumu said, chuckling. 

He climbed the stairs, palm planted on the wall as he tried to steady himself.

It was 11 pm when he reached Kiyoomi’s doorstep. He used to schedule his melancholic moments under the shower but Kiyoomi’s doorstep was a good spot, too. He gave himself a minute to contemplate his life choices and after that, he decided that he was done. He let himself in, taking his shoes off and walking as straight as he could towards Kiyoomi who was lounging on the sofa, watching the late-night news.

Atsumu plopped down on the sofa and tried to arrange the words in his head, he had a lot to yell, rant, and talk about a while ago but they slowly dissipated when Kiyoomi lazily climbed into his lap. Kiyoomi straddled his thighs as he leaned in for a kiss and it took all of Atsumu’s willpower to place his hand over Kiyoomi’s chest and gently push him away. 

“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” he said with finality but regretted it right after when he witnessed how the rest of the colors drained from Kiyoomi’s already pale face. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sakusa pov next chapter 2/2 of their 1st night hes gonna try so hard not to fall inlove with atsumu  
> why is suna having more screentime than osamu lol bc theres this 3person GC and suna's in there as well as two more people bgsnbdk


	6. KIYOOMI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1st week of June 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter I wrote dirty look instead of naughty look and I wrote peaches instead of pears ty for the person who pointed it out. I'm half asleep while writing this one we don't have beta reader and I don't read what I type so expect the worse ×_×

* * *

**2:41 AM**

  
_When was the last time I had sex?_ Kiyoomi asked himself as he tried to take a lungful deep breath. _I don’t remember sex being this chaotic_. It didn’t matter if he had his eyes closed, he had seen sparks of white behind his eyelids twenty seconds ago and it hadn’t stopped, yet. He swallowed, still catching his breath, running his right hand everywhere he could reach as he tried to get a hold of something, anything to keep him grounded because he felt like he was ascending. He clutched the first thing he touched and instantly felt the vibrations of a groan on his throat. 

  
Atsumu’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, he was breathing heavily, too, and Kiyoomi had just noticed that it was Atsumu’s hair he was tugging.

  
They finished at the exact same time and that was not something to marvel about except Kiyoomi had cummed untouched three times and Atsumu had successfully finished with him at the exact moment on his third try. How he did that, and how their refractory period became as short as 10 minutes to non-existent, Kiyoomi had no idea. At the end of the second round, Kiyoomi had decided to stop wondering about the phenomenon that was Miya Atsumu.

  
The said phenomenon started nibbling on his collarbone, again, but Kiyoomi couldn’t feel his legs anymore, which were still wrapped around Atsumu by the way, his heels digging under Atsumu’s ass, set out to lock him in place.

  
“I’m dead, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said, voice hoarse, his throat scratchy. He needed to rehydrate. He unlocked his ankles and let his legs drop on the bed, stretched out. Atsumu was peppering the base of his throat with lazy openmouthed kisses but Kiyoomi was spent and dying. He opened his eyes but ended up squinting, his bedroom was bathed in some weird lighting, and grabbed Atsumu’s shoulders to push him up. “Enough,” he said, though it sounded like a plea.

  
Atsumu plopped over him, chin digging on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek. "Where's the towel, Omi?"

  
With that, Kiyoomi was forced to open his eyes again. He turned to his right, circling his legs around Atsumu to prevent him from falling off the bed and he palmed the floor for the bedside lamp that they managed to knock over during sex. He picked it up and put it back in place. It was set to dim when they started but it turned into the fucking sun when it fell on the floor. He tweaked it back to a less visually offending shade.

  
"Dirty," Kiyoomi said when he saw the towel on the floor. "Get another one."

  
"Okay," Atsumu murmured. "Let go."

  
Kiyoomi let his limbs fall back on the bed and tapped Atsumu’s shoulder, urging him to move.

  
But Atsumu remained still above him. "Let me go, Omi."

  
Kiyoomi clicked his tongue. "Go," he said, knocking on the back of Atsumu’s head impatiently and then trying to push the 177 lbs dead weight.

  
Atsumu looked up and smiled at him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Kiyoomi felt a hand sliding from the back of his thigh up to his ass. He was about to shake his head and protest because he couldn't go again, but then Atsumu palmed his ass gently, "Let go of my dick, Omi." 

  
Kiyoomi blinked once, twice. "Oh."

  
**2:58 AM**

  
“So this is the part where we change the sheets, right?” he heard Atsumu ask behind him.

  
They had just finished taking a very quick shower where Kiyoomi had threatened to smack Atsumu’s head against the tile when the latter shamelessly tried to sexy dance his way to another round.

  
Kiyoomi stared at his mess of a bed and thought, yeah, he’d let Atsumu help. Why not? 

  
He ordered Atsumu to strip the mattress while he grabbed clean sheets. They fixed the bed, Kiyoomi genuinely thanked Atsumu for staying to help him.

  
“Bed's done. Thank you. Now, this is the part where you leave,” Kiyoomi said after folding the sullied ones and putting them away in the hamper. 

  
“That last bit of your standard one-night stand procedure is canceled,” Atsumu said, hand on his waist. He was standing on the other side of the bed wearing the robe Kiyoomi had let him use.

  
Kiyoomi mirrored Atsumu’s stance, putting his hand on his waist and raising his brow. “What do you mean cancel?” 

  
“Like, literally. Cancel, like what you do in PEMDAS,” Atsumu said, his forefinger drawing several slashes in the air, “You know, cancel shit.” 

  
“... what?”

  
“This isn’t your usual one-night stand, Omi-Kun. I’m not some faceless stranger that you’ll never see again. I live down the hall and I’m your friend. We’re teammates and we see each other almost every day. If I leave now it’s gonna be weird.” 

  
Every word that came out of Atsumu’s mouth didn’t make any sense but Kiyoomi got stuck on a particular claim.

  
“We’re friends?”

  
Alright, Kiyoomi wasn’t that mean. They had a weird kind of friendship going on, he’d give him that one, but he never expected Atsumu to actually say that out loud.

  
Atsumu took a step back, his jaw had just dropped and he looked thoroughly betrayed. Kiyoomi braced himself for the incoming Mexican soap opera scene.

  
“Right,” Atsumu started and followed it up with a fake sob. That alone made Kiyoomi cover his mouth with his hand. “I’m just a blonde guy who keeps chasing you around, huh. I’m just your annoying teammate.” Atsumu said, voice cracking, and wow, how the fuck did he crack his voice on purpose? Kiyoomi covered his entire face, his knees weakening as he tried to contain his laughter. “I’m just the guy who sets the ball for you whenever you call for it.”

  
That was the last straw. Kiyoomi was on the floor, chortling. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at Atsumu who was sporting a pained face, still in character.

  
**3:21 AM**

  
Kiyoomi opened the fridge, gesturing vaguely at the contents or the lack thereof. “That’s all I have,” he said, glancing back and finding no one behind him. He turned around, looking for Atsumu, and found him standing awkwardly by the bedroom door giving him a tight-lipped smile. For a second, Kiyoomi just stared and wondered what the fuck was Atsumu doing there, volunteering to cook but standing ten steps away from the kitchen. And then it hit him. 

  
He let Atsumu stab him in the ass with his dick three times- they had a two-hour long sex marathon but Atsumu still thought he wasn't allowed in the kitchen. 

  
Kiyoomi beckoned him over.

  
“Are you sure?” Atsumu asked.

  
Kiyoomi just beckoned him aggressively. “So, this is all I have,” he said again.

  
Atsumu stood quietly behind him, expression unreadable. “You really are a scam. Big fraud. You look so put together but your fridge is empty.” 

  
Kiyoomi kicked the fridge door close. “I’ll have you know that I have this list.” he pointed at the single post-it note, “You see, I have a grocery list. You just caught my fridge on a bad day,” he said, trying to save his face but the universe conspired to pick on him, the note fell on the floor. Kiyoomi picked it up and slammed it back on the fridge door.

  
Atsumu sighed. “Don’t you have like, friends who go overseas and spare you a souvenir magnet or two?” he asked as he reached out and opened it again.

  
“Did you forget I never accept gifts?” Kiyoomi said, stepping aside and crossing his arms.

  
Atsumu took out three eggs, closing the fridge and tilting his head. “Where’s the music coming from?”

  
Kiyoomi picked up a pan and placed it over the stove, assuming Atsumu was gonna use it. “203.” He turned to Atsumu. “That means they just had sex. That’s their cool down song,” he said and realized that he had gotten used to it. If Atsumu hadn’t mentioned, he surely wouldn’t notice that there was soft music playing.

  
The only sources of light in the kitchen were the dim light from the bedroom and the moonlight from the balcony. And as Atsumu walked closer to him with an amused smile on his lips, Kiyoomi was suddenly reminded of the proses that he’d been required to read in college. The ones that get overly descriptive when narrating about how someone looked like under the moonlight, talking about eyelashes casting shadows over cheeks.

  
Then he corrected himself. Atsumu was not a prose. He was more of a poetry- because he didn’t make sense. 

  
Not haiku, haiku was too short. Not narrative poetry, he remembered those were too unfolded, no room left for riddles. Couldn’t be a sonnet either, they were 14 liners. If Atsumu was a poem, he wouldn’t have a precise meter. Maybe Atsumu could be expressed using free verse poetry- inconsistent rhyme, warped metrical pattern.

  
It seemed like Atsumu was walking over to him in half time, maybe slower than that, like a second was extended to five. But he was not. He walked at normal speed, it was just Kiyoomi’s brain playing tricks on him, slowing everything down and running twenty thoughts per second. Kiyoomi frowned to himself when Atsumu’s shoulder brushed against his own.

  
_Bold of me to talk about poetry. I slept through literature classes, what the fuck do I know?_

  
“How did you know?” Atsumu asked as he checked the cupboards.

  
“Know what?”

  
Atsumu pointed at the wall Kiyoomi shared with 203 before pulling a small box of pancake mix that he didn’t know he had, the setter seemed surprised, too.

  
“Well,” Kiyoomi cleared his throat, stepping aside to let Atsumu move freely in front of the sink. “I couldn’t sleep the first couple weeks I moved in here. I’d always watch tv. Our units have the same layout, so behind that wall where my tv is mounted, is Bokuto’s bedroom,” he said and ended it there. He was sure Atsumu could fill the gap.

  
“Do you think they dance sensually before they do it?” Atsumu asked, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Or after?” he said and did a little wave. 

  
_This guy is getting too comfortable._

  
“Do you wanna see my knife collection, Atsumu?”

  
The setter shook his head immediately, running the tap to wash his hands. “No. Can’t you see, I’m kinda busy right now, Omi,” he said and kept his head down.

  
Kiyoomi looked away and bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling. He asked Atsumu if he needed the lights on but the latter shook his head, saying he had already adjusted to Kiyoomi’s vampire ways.

  
He left Atsumu in the kitchen and headed to the entryway, the motion sensor lights above him switching on as he was putting their shoes in the proper place. He picked up the bottle of wine Atsumu had dropped earlier. He refused to look at the door- the place where he had made some questionable decisions, and went back to the kitchen, realizing that it was such a weak and ridiculous attempt to deny what had happened because Atsumu was still there.

  
Atsumu refused to leave because according to him, it’d make things weird. 

  
Seeing him there in his kitchen, wearing one of his robes with nothing else underneath, cooking pancakes at past three in the morning was weirder.

  
But the weirdest thing was, now Kiyoomi couldn’t find it in himself to send Atsumu away.

  
“Omi, come watch me flip this,”

  
Kiyoomi moved closer to get a better look. Atsumu flipped the pancake perfectly. "7/10," he said, expecting Atsumu to get offended but the latter just smiled.

  
"That's high enough."

  
Kiyoomi washed his hands, grabbed a glass, and poured himself a drink. He took a sip of wine as he watched Atsumu pour the rest of the mixture into the pan. He was really out here, letting Atsumu cook in his kitchen. For a moment, he was tempted to take a photo of him, send it to Motoya, make his jaw drop, but he knew once his cousin recovered from the initial shock he’d cause so much ruckus that neither Kiyoomi nor Atsumu would be willing to handle.

  
"You're staring." 

  
"Just making sure I won't die of food poisoning."

  
"This is exactly how Samu bagged Suna."

  
"Food poisoning?"

  
Atsumu laughed first before giving Kiyoomi a look as if saying you know what I mean.

  
"I'm just warning you. I know I look hot right now."

  
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, smiling. "I appreciate the warning but you don't have to worry. I'll never fall in love with you, Atsumu. Not in a hundred years." 

  
"Hundred years." Atsumu echoed, "But after that?" 

  
Atsumu let the question linger in the air for 5 long seconds before giving Kiyoomi a quick glance, smiling, lifting the pan, and flipping the last pancake directly in Kiyoomi’s line of sight.

  
"6/10," Kiyoomi said, voice louder than intended, and then he turned away. 

**3:41 AM**

  
Approximately two hours ago, a brief moment right after his first orgasm, Kiyoomi experienced a glitch in his system. He wasn’t sure whether his _ego_ went into a vacation leaving his panic-stricken _superego_ alone to deal with his _id_ or his _ego_ was there but had called the battle off when it saw that the spawn of _id_ was a six-foot-two tall professional athlete sporting fake blond hair whose groans and moans sent giant butterflies to his tummy, whose mouth sucked his whines, and whose every thrust was such a bullseye. It was indeed a losing game. But it was fine, understandable even, because his _id_ would usually win in bed but the balcony? Which of those was supposed to function here? What made him voluntarily sit his ass down on the dirty floor?

  
"-got out of the car and made a scene right there in the middle of the road. I was photographed-"

  
_Nevermind. I slept through Gen. Psychology, too. Who even is Freud?_

  
"-a knee jerk reaction, you know. The driver in front of me signaled wrong, of course, I'll get pissed, I almost bumped into him-"

  
They were sprawled on the balcony floor facing each other, a plate of pancakes that they were sharing was laid between their folded legs. Their robes were probably collecting loads of dust, but Atsumu was talking animatedly and that alone was enough distraction. 

  
"-Yoko-chan, our pr manager now, she was a pr staff when that happened, she was the one who wrote the apology letter. I went live on insta and read it-”

  
Kiyoomi was leaning sideways against the railing, watching Atsumu as he talked about the first time he got called into a meeting with the management. Though he couldn’t really see him since the moon, which was 2 days away from being full- he checked a while ago-, was behind Atsumu.

  
“-five foot three Asian woman barged into my apartment and confiscated my car and my license-”

  
That meant he couldn’t see Atsumu’s face but the latter could see his?

  
“-It was my mom, by the way. She carnapped my car.”

  
Kiyoomi instantly got self-conscious. “Let’s switch,” he said, getting up and nudging Atsumu’s knee with his foot.

  
“Whyyyy?” Atsumu whined but started moving as well after pushing the wine near the railing. “Oh no, Omi, I can’t see your face,” he said after settling down.

  
 _Well, shit. I can see yours._ Kiyoomi looked away, wondering how the fuck did Atsumu manage to look good in every lighting?

  
“Omi, can you,” Atsumu picked up the wine and the plate, “move. Lean your back against the railing.”

  
They moved again, just 90 degrees clockwise. Atsumu was facing the trees in the back of the complex while Kiyoomi was facing the sliding door to his unit. Atsumu poured the rest of the wine into the glass that they were sharing and laid the empty bottle by his side. He took a sip before leaning back, his palm on the floor and his eyes looking heavenward. One side of his face was illuminated by the moon, and Kiyoomi stared. He stared at Atsumu and thought there was no way they’d go back to how they used to be before this night happened.

  
Why was he seeing Atsumu differently now? _Is it because he’s the first person who asked, followed, and respected my rules?_

  
Kiyoomi sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he looked away. _This is a one-time thing_ , he reminded himself, _there’s no point in overthinking_. 

  
Kiyoomi reached for the plate and shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

  
“I can’t believe you’re eating something that I cooked.”

  
 _This means I trust you_. “It tastes okay.”

  
“What if I bring you take out food, are you gonna eat it?”

  
“What kind of food?”

  
“Onigiri.”

  
Kiyoomi scrunched his nose, thinking about people's hands molding the rice, then he remembered the other Miya. “Only when it’s from your brother.” 

  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Atsumu said, hooking his foot in the railing beside Kiyoomi and sliding forward until his legs were folded. He crossed his arms over his knees, his elbow was now touching Kiyoomi’s arm. “You can’t cook, Omi. I’m a bit worried.”

  
“Just because I fucked up one stew doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” 

  
Atsumu just chuckled.

  
They were silent for a moment, Kiyoomi looking up, searching for stars but finding none, while Atsumu kept his eyes forward. It was past four in the morning, they were on the balcony floor under the starless sky, both still very wide awake.

  
Music from 203 had long stopped playing. Even the cicadas weren’t too loud tonight. Kiyoomi closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the rustling leaves behind him while the summer breeze ruffled his hair.

  
“In the old days, if someone had a secret they didn’t want to share, do you know what they did?”

  
Kiyoomi’s eyes snapped open. He turned to Atsumu.

  
“They’d climb a mountain, find a tree,” Atsumu pointed at the tree in front of him, “maybe as huge as that one,” he said, smiling and meeting Kiyoomi eyes. “They’d carve a hole in it, and whisper the secret into the hole.” Slowly, Atsumu leaned forward, his face inches away from Kiyoomi. “Then they’d cover the hole with mud. And leave the secret there forever.”

  
They held each other’s gaze for a while, and Kiyoomi felt something he couldn’t explain, something he couldn’t put into words. 

  
A part of him wanted to stay still, hold the moment as long as he could, while another part of him was begging him to do something. Kiyoomi was having the hardest mental battle of his life when suddenly, Atsumu’s eyes trailed down to his lips. _DO IT_! a voice in his head yelled. Whether the command was to lean over or to run away, Kiyoomi had taken too long to decide, Atsumu had already turned away.

  
There was a desperate need to reach out, grab, and pull, but he held it all in until Atsumu turned to him again, handing the empty bottle of wine. 

  
“It’s a hassle doing all that, yeah?” Atsumu said, smiling. “This bottle looks reliable enough.”

  
Kiyoomi cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle, holding it towards Atsumu like a microphone. “You go first.” 

  
Atsumu shook his head. “I don’t think I have one,” he said and pushed the bottle back to him.

  
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying mine out loud,” he said and held the bottle against his forehead. 

  
“That’s not how they do it.” Atsumu laughed but Kiyoomi couldn’t see him, he had his eyes closed.

  
“Shh.” Kiyoomi knew he probably looked dumb but he went on anyway. Because he did have a secret he never wanted to share with anyone. His cousin had a hunch and had teased him about it but Kiyoomi never confirmed it, he had denied it a thousand times and he’d deny it a thousand more.

  
 _I had a crush on Miya Atsumu when I was 16._

  
He was about to open his eyes when he felt warm lips pressing on his temple. He took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip, and kept his eyes shut. 

  
Only as Atsumu trailed soft kisses on his cheek down to his jaw had Kiyoomi deeply understood why people wished they could bottle up moments.

**4:42 AM**

  
His palms were planted on Atsumu’s chest as the latter's hands were gripping his waist, guiding and steadying their pace. He knew this would all feel like a dream later, so for now, he stopped thinking about how many people had seen Atsumu like this. He stopped thinking about how many more would. 

  
He focused on the present, taking all of Atsumu and giving everything he had in return. And when it was all over, he let himself collapse above the setter. He let himself be hugged. This would all feel like a dream later, a fever dream, maybe a nightmare, but for now, he focused on the present. With his face buried in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, one thing made him smile as he tried to catch his breath. _He smells like me. Atsumu smells like me._ And Kiyoomi would forever deny how much that pleased him.

**9:38 AM**

  
Right after hearing the front door shut, Kiyoomi stood up, picking up their mugs and laying them on the sink. He went to his bedroom and drew all the curtains, letting the sunlight in. He sat on his bed and stared at the empty bottle of wine beside his lamp. 

  
_**He’s seen a Wong Kar-wai movie.** _

  
_ **… what movie?** _

  
_**In the mood for love** _

_**The idiot recited the whole secret scene** _

  
_**… oh no** _

_**You’re fucked then** _

  
Kiyoomi grabbed the bottle by its neck and hid it under the kitchen sink.

  
_Sex was too good, I let my guard down too long, and fell in love with him for like, 11 minutes._

_So what? It’s no big deal. It was just a moment of weakness. It was a one-time thing. As long as this doesn’t happen again, I’m good._

_It’s not like I’m gonna let this happen again. So I’m good._

**A few months later**

  
Kiyoomi had let it happen plenty of times and things hadn’t been good. 

  
He was adjusting the water temperature when he caught himself staring blankly at Atsumu’s hair products that were placed neatly beside his own. When exactly did these things take residence in his space, Kiyoomi had no idea. He used to keep those away but now they were here. And as Kiyoomi stepped out of the shower, he started noticing traces of Atsumu in his apartment. 

  
The robe- which had one end of its belt tied into a slipknot to indicate that it was Atsumu’s, was hanging beside the bathroom door; the extra blanket that he had shoved under Atsumu’s pillow when he got tired of him complaining nonstop about the AC; the box under the bed that contained Atsumu’s favorite brand of fruit-scented lubricant as well as a stash of condoms including two dozens of glow in the dark ones that Atsumu had only tried once because it was too thick for his liking; Atsumu’s grey sweatpants in his closet that he had begged Kiyoomi to wear and then stared at Kiyoomi’s crotch all day like a fucking creep; the baby pink wool coat Atsumu had gifted him was also in his closet, Atsumu handed it to him shyly and awkwardly, and Kiyoomi hated the color so much but he accepted it, that had been the first time Kiyoomi had considered someone’s feelings rather than his hatred of anything pink; 

  
Standing beside his MVP trophy was Atsumu’s Kendama which Kiyoomi was not allowed to touch anymore ever since he got the hang of it, because Atsumu only wanted him to learn but he never wanted Kiyoomi to be better at it than him; the Onigiri Miya magnet on his fridge; the Miya’s handwritten cookbook that Osamu had announced missing on twitter and tagged the number one suspect that was Atsumu, the case went under media trial for days until Atsumu retweeted it telling his brother to talk to his lawyers, Suna Rintarou went live on instagram, filming Osamu as he raided Atsumu’s apartment without a warrant, the engaged couple didn’t find the cookbook in Apt 201, because it was and always had been in Apt 204, above Kiyoomi’s fridge; 

  
Kiyoomi had swallowed Atsumu’s cum once, he’d done it just one fucking time and Atsumu had freaked out, asking about how it tasted and worrying about his cum tasting like the Chicken breast protein smoothie he had for breakfast- as if Kiyoomi would’ve tasted shit? He was drunk, everything tasted like fermented grapes. The next day Kiyoomi had a box full of oranges and another box full of mangoes, for a second he thought he was being courted by some kind of a nature deity but he opened the cupboards and saw a lot of canned pineapple juice. 

  
The ugly crocs that Atsumu allegedly forgot to wear back to his unit had been sitting on Kiyoomi’s shoe rack for months now, he said he forgot to wear it back- what kind of fuckery was that? He left it there on purpose because he knew Kiyoomi hated it so much, he did that just to get under his skin. 

  
Conclusion: Atsumu was everywhere in his apartment.

  
Atsumu was a germ, Kiyoomi had accepted a long time ago, he was the 0.01% germ that disinfectant sprays couldn’t kill. That was irritating at first but he found himself being comforted by that fact. Because it meant he wouldn’t leave. Kiyoomi could be at his worst behavior around Atsumu, he could cuss, act like Atsumu didn’t exist, act like he himself didn’t exist, without worrying about Atsumu disappearing on him. If he yelled, Atsumu would flinch but it was guaranteed that he’d stay and roll with the punches. 

  
But looking at his apartment now with the complete awareness of Atsumu-owned things lying around, Kiyoomi realized Atsumu was not just a germ. He was a hybrid variety of pest. A pest developed in a lab that was specifically designed to penetrate Kiyoomi’s home. 

  
This had gotten too far and he knew that the first step of damage control was to get rid of Atsumu’s stuff or just maybe keep them away from his sight. 

  
He decided he’d start with the crocs. He stared at it, blinked twice, scratched his head, and walked away. He called the damage control off. There was no point in doing it.

  
He was contaminated from within.

  
**Late November**

  
To Kiyoomi, falling in love was the same as dying, you either fall slowly, gradually- like dying of cancer, or you could fall all at once, like getting hit by a car. 

  
Kiyoomi wasn’t dead, not yet, but every time he looked at Atsumu a second too long, every time he placed his palm over Atsumu’s chest to feel his heartbeat when the latter was asleep, and every time they were having sex, those moments just to name a few, had always made him feel that death was just around the corner.

  
But dying alone was not fun. If he was going down, he’d make sure he wouldn’t go down alone. He’d take Atsumu with him. So he drank a glassful of wine and waited for Atsumu. He used to drink more than that but Meian said he’d always get a little grumpy so just one glass of wine for now.

  
As soon as Atsumu arrived, he wasted no time, he settled on Atsumu’s lap and leaned forward to kiss him but to his horror, and for the very first time, he was pushed away.

  
“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” Atsumu said with so much conviction and Kiyoomi felt like the air in his lungs was being sucked out. “I don’t wanna do this anymore,” Atsumu repeated like Kiyoomi didn't hear it the first time, what the fuck?

  
They stared at each other for a moment, Kiyoomi used the time to regain his chill and when he was sure his blood pressure wasn't crazily moving up and down like the stock market, he grabbed the front of Atsumu’s shirt and took a deep breath.

  
They did not just put up with each other’s bullshit for almost half a year only to end up like this, right? 

  
“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi asked in monotone but he knew his face gave him away.

  
“You look like you’re about to choose violence,” Atsumu said, his resolve weakening, Kiyoomi could tell but then Atsumu shook his head and pulled himself together. “But I don’t care. I don’t wanna do this anymore, Omi. I don’t wanna drink anymore, alright? I can’t pull this rockstar lifestyle any longer. and I don’t wanna keep this to myself anymore. I’m so full, Omi, right here.” Atsumu said, pointing to his chest. “I feel like I’m going to explode.” He paused, leaned back, pulled his hair in frustration, took a deep breath, and then said, “Kiyoomi, I wanna hold your hand in public.” 

  
Goddamnn. Kiyoomi breathed out in relief. For a second there he thought he was gonna get dumped. He closed his eyes and let his body slumped, suddenly feeling so fucking tired. Their situation had taken a huge toll on him, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He opened his eyes and saw that Atsumu wasn’t looking good, either. He looked worse. But it’d be okay now. No more dancing around each other's feelings. No more alcohol. They were going to put an end to this circus.

  
“Now I understand why Meian said I’m a ticking time bomb,” Atsumu said. “Deadass, Omi, I’m two kisses away from telling the world that I lo-”

  
Kiyoomi slammed his palm over Atsumu’s mouth. “No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head frantically. "The world? What the fuck?"

  
Atsumu grabbed him by the wrist and waist and wrestled him down until they were lying on the sofa with Atsumu pinning him down. “The world needs to know, everybody needs to know, and I don’t care.” Atsumu said, “I don't care if you don’t feel the same. I’m gonna say it whether you wanna hear it or not, Omi, I’ve been keeping this to myself for months now. I am madly in lov-”

  
“No!” Kiyoomi wrapped his legs around Atsumu, one hand at the back of the Atsumu’s head and one hand ready to break their fall as he pivoted their bodies off the sofa. 

  
“Why the fuck not?” Atsumu almost yelled as they continued to wrestle on the floor. 

  
"Because I don't want a drunk confession!"

  
With that, Atsumu froze. Kiyoomi took advantage of Atsumu’s comatose state, pulling him up and leading him to the door. Only when he was already standing outside did Atsumu manage to wake up from his trance. He turned around, facing Kiyoomi while sporting his most confused expression ever. "Hang on." he said, "Do you…?" _feel the same_ was left unsaid and it took all of Kiyoomi’s willpower to not admit his feelings right then and there, but they deserved sober declarations of love, they owed that to each other. So Kiyoomi just smiled. 

  
"Come back tomorrow and find out."

  
He closed the door in Atsumu’s confused but hopeful face.

  
Kiyoomi turned around and chuckled to himself.

  
_He wants to what? Hold my hand in public? Disgusting._

  
He went to the kitchen, grabbed the wine bottle that he kept under the sink, and took out the rolled paper inside. He flattened the paper on the dining table. He scanned the list of their first thirteen sexual encounters and then looked up to the ceiling as he scanned through his mental list of the 14th - 30th. They had sex more than 30 times but his brain flat out denied storage of new information after that. 

  
He sighed and stared sleepily at the empty bottle of wine from his first night with Atsumu.

  
Falling in love was the same as dying, and Kiyoomi knew exactly how his death story started.

  
_That moment before our first kiss, I was terrified. It felt like I was holding a fork over a socket. I knew I was gonna get electrocuted, but I thought, there's nothing wrong with wanting to get a little shock every once in a while, right? But I know it'll kill me if I stuck the fork in too long. I wasn't ready to die. I didn't wanna die. So I took you in small doses, I took only what I could handle. I pushed in, and then I pulled out, like a coward._

  
_I don't know what the future holds and I'm still scared as fuck but screw it._

  
_Memento mori._

  
_Atsumu, I'm giving you the permission to kill me._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _
> 
> 死んでもいいわ | shindemo iiwa (I can die happy) in Japanese is one way of accepting someone's confession- i read that [here](https://www.italki.com/article/909/confessing-your-love-in-japanese?hl=en)
> 
> Shindemo iiwa / i can die happy / i don't mind dying
> 
> sakusa kiyoomi: kill me 
> 
> 🤣🤣🤣
> 
> Anyway U know that scene in 500days of summer where the girl said I LOVE THE SMITHS and the guy falls in love head first just bc the girl knows the band the smiths. That's how omi felt when Atsumu quoted a line from a movie directed by his fav director I am srsly high while writing this chapter high from fatigue I'm so tired these days how are all of you? are you still here I hope you're still enjoying this story only one more chapter left


	7. FINAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: a character used the word "gay panicking" in this chapter and he meant it like how we used this term on twitter/ other sns now. i just wanna clear that out since terms like 'homosexual panic', 'gay panic defense' have different meanings. 
> 
> And... This took too long bc I refused to write it I don't wanna say goodbye to these idiots :// but I had to so I could move on to colleges aus and coffee shops and soulmates.
> 
> PS if you already liked prev chapter's ending then I suggest u don't read this or just lower ur expectation so u won't get disappointed this is atsumus pov so we go back to crackheadry.
> 
> Ps i just learned that Japanese people eat lots of fried chicken on Christmas 😭 strong Kim jongin vibes 😭

* * *

The moment Atsumu woke up, he got a flashback of when he had an argument with Osamu when they were kids. Back then, they were hooked on superheroes and superpowers, at some point they were convinced they had telepathy, with them being twins and all. And then they’d always take turns choosing superpowers and imagine scenarios of them fighting but Osamu ruined the fun of it all when one day, instead of his usual ‘super speed’, he chose ‘power absorption’. Power fucking absorption. Apparently, it was the ability to absorb powers. Atsumu got so mad because what was the fucking point of him having flight as a superpower, or invisibility or omnipotence when Osamu, that dickwad, would just absorb everything? 

  
But right now, if he’d be given one superpower, he’d choose time travel, time manipulation, Chronokinesis, whatever they called it.

  
Atsumu thought chronokinesis was possible, scientists just need to up their game. They should tone down their obsession with Mars and focus on more important things like superpowers, particularly- chronokinesis. Because he was willing to pay a good amount of money just to have that superpower right now. He wanted to go back in time. He wanted to take back some words that he had said, you see, he was not planning to make some drastic changes. If he could go back in time he’d just shove his whole fist into his mouth rather than tell Kiyoomi that he wants to hold his hand in public. Because:

  
The was the worst confession prelude ever.

  
Last night, his rum-charged brain had supplied only three choices, the first one was ‘I wanna raise a golden retriever with you’ - which he crossed out immediately because that sounded like ‘let’s buy a house in the suburbs’ and the second was ‘You have the most beautiful sex face ever. You look so fucking illegal when you’re riding me. The view of you bouncing up and down is saved as a 7-second gif in my brain and is the only file in my wank bank’ - which he crossed out, too, for obvious reasons. 

  
So he had resorted to saying that tasteless line: I waNna HoLd yOur HanD iN public, which successfully sabotaged his main character potential, as well as Kiyoomi’s. 

  
“Fuck.” Atsumu buried his face in his pillow and sobbed.

  
But in his defense, he was not very articulate, to begin with. And he genuinely thought he never stood a fucking chance so he had decided to just let it out, say it out loud because he’d rather drive the car into a cliff than circle a roundabout one more time. In his mind, it was already done. He’d confess and wait for rejection, expecting Kiyoomi would hand it to him on a silver platter with ‘What do you mean relationship ew I only like your dick Atsumu I’m sorry’ on the side. And then Atsumu would go home and repost some sad poems on his Instagram stories, those that talked about the art of letting go and similar shit. He’d let the world know that he had fallen in love and eventually got his heart shattered for the first time- without giving a single clue on who caused it because he loved Kiyoomi, he’d protect him, of course. But instead of looking for sad poems, he spent an unhealthy amount of time last night typing tweets. He had at least ten drafts of him announcing his relationship with Kiyoomi in varying levels of candor. Some were in essay format that talked about his love for someone tall, has seductive curls, and a surname that starts with S but not Styles, while others were straight-up **I love you :** with a cropped photo of the colon on Kiyoomi’s forehead attached to it. 

  
_Is this for real?_ Atsumu buried his face deeper into his pillow and laughed.

  
_Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi. You’re in love with me, too? God. You’re so dumb._

  
Atsumu grabbed his phone. He was checking if his precious drafts were still there when it suddenly started ringing. 

  
“Good morning-”

  
“How bad is it?”

  
“I kinda miss hearing your voice in the morning-”

  
“Atsumu.”

  
Atsumu sighed. “I need to talk to you.”

* * *

"How's my favorite PR manager?" Atsumu greeted, taking a seat across Yoko. He was dressed to the nines while Yoko was wearing a black hoodie and sweatpants.

  
The young woman looked up, surveyed his face, and then turned back to her laptop. Atsumu noticed she had headphones plugged into her ears so he sat there and waited quietly. He looked around, assessing the cleanliness of the place- a habit that he had adapted from Kiyoomi- and decided that he'd give this restaurant's private room a 4.5 out of 5. 

  
He noticed Yoko frowning at her laptop screen, the creases in her forehead deepening before she snorted. “Since when did you become friends with Kuroo Tetsuro?” she asked with her eyebrow raised, eyes never leaving the screen.

  
Atsumu leaned forward and turned the laptop, trying to see what was on the screen. It was a 20-second video. Atsumu unplugged the headphones so he could hear the audio. 

  
“ _Nothing to see here…”_ Kuroo said as the door of the pub swung open. “ _Yo! I said there’s nothing to see- hey! Stop that!_ ” He warned, pointing at where the flash came from. He then stepped out, dragging someone with him. The identity of his companion remained a mystery because their head was wrapped with Kuroo’s coat. “ _Make way or I’ll step on your heads,_ ” Kuroo and his companion made their way to the street where Bokuto’s range rover was illegally parked, its hazard flashers blinking. They hopped into the backseat, the video ended when the car pulled away.

  
Atsumu pushed the laptop back, smiling.

  
"Were you shitfaced?" Yoko asked.

  
"No. Not really." It was Kuroo’s birthday last weekend, he was in town and Atsumu got invited over for drinks. "Kuroo's just a funny guy." He recalled how Kuroo said the media should give sports people a break sometimes and then proceeded to wrap Atsumu’s head, determined to hide him from said media. "Why are you even dealing with this right now?"

  
Yoko exhaled, putting the laptop away. "I was just checking."

  
"I said I didn't do anything these past months."

  
"I know, I know. But you sent me a text at 3 AM on a Sunday asking to meet up. My paranoia from this morning hasn't subsided yet." They flicked through the menu and ordered food. As soon as their server was gone, Yoko stared at him, giving him her full attention. She nodded once, "Fire away."

  
Atsumu cleared his throat, “You know how my fans are, right?” Yoko tilted her head and gave him a look, silently asking him to elaborate. “They’re kinda…” he paused and flapped his hand, “mildly chaotic,” Yoko’s left eyebrow raised, her expression amused for a bit before it turned slightly alarmed.

  
“Where are we going, exactly?”

  
“Alright, alright,” Atsumu propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward and beckoning Yoko to come closer despite the fact that they were alone in the private room. “Yoko-chan, there’s a fat chance that I’ll get myself a boyfriend tonight.”

  
Yoko leaned back and crossed her arms. For a moment, Atsumu thought she was mad but when he looked closely, he saw a glint of smile, a curious one, dancing across her features. “Go on,”

  
“And if that happens, I’ll probably go nuts on social media. I am going to flex my relationship with this guy everywhere. But,” Atsumu took a deep breath, “What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked and gave Yoko some time to ponder. Yoko uncrossed her arms, looked up, and stretched her neck. “I know this will not affect the team. My fans, though. I care about them but I care for this person more, you know? I don’t want him to get unnecessary hate.” he continued.

  
Yoko nodded. “Yeah, I understand you.”

  
Atsumu felt a little relieved now that he had unloaded his concerns to Yoko. This woman took care of his image, she was one of the main reasons why Atsumu had a huge following and was well-loved, too. He had regarded Yoko as a teammate, a friend, ever since she stood up for him during his rookie year when the PR manager that time had refused to deal with his road rage photos and had called him pigheaded- she was kinda mean.

  
On the contrary, Yoko was nothing like her. Yoko was great. Yoko was the best. And Yoko understood him. And if Atsumu would go public with his future relationship, the least that he could do was inform Yoko first and foremost. 

  
“I just want this to cause as little upset as possible, you know.”

  
Yoko smiled, “Look at you,” she said, “You’re all grown up now.”

  
Atsumu rolled his eyes as he felt himself relax a little bit. Because Yoko was smiling, it seemed like everything would be fine. This weirdly felt like he was weeding the path so Kiyoomi could walk comfortably later, no disturbances on the road, just flowers and butterflies and friendly unicorns. No mud. Kiyoomi hated mud.

  
“Well, it depends,” Yoko said, shrugging.

  
“Depends on...?”

  
“On who you’re dating,” Yoko said, “whether it's Sakusa Kiyoomi or not.” she grinned and patiently waited for Atsumu to grasp what she said.

  
Atsumu squinted, his brain short-circuiting. Was he supposed to connect dots, because if he was, then where the fuck were the dots?

  
“...Huh?”

  
Yoko snorted with laughter and shook her head. Atsumu was about to throw another ‘huh?’ but their food arrived. They thanked the waitress and right after she left, Atsumu begged Yoko to speak up.

  
“Listen,” Yoko said after inhaling half of her food. “If it’s Sakusa, then go. It's completely fine. You have my blessing."

  
"It is Omi. Yeah. Thank you." Atsumu said sincerely. "That's a huge relief, but???? Can you please enlighten me? I'm… I’m confused right now."

  
Yoko wiped her hands and turned to her laptop. "There's this conspiracy theory about you two dating–"

  
"Wait," Atsumu interrupted, "Me and Omi? Dating?"

  
Yoko nodded, "Yes. You two have been dating since March-"

  
"March??"

  
Yoko clicked her tongue. "I'm not quite finished."

  
"Alright. I'm sorry. Please continue,"

  
"Okay, so you've been dating since March, hang on, let me find the timeline– alright." Yoko looked at him, "This is a bit of a reach but it's entertaining." she said, almost a warning, and then she went on, "March 20, you had dinner with him, his sister, and his cousin, there are photos. You've been dating at this point. And then in April, there was this thing with you and this bitch, remember, the journalist who claimed you were dating?"

  
"Yeah," Atsumu made a face. "We were photographed outside the club, but that's it."

  
"I know and I believe you. We cleaned that one real quick but it left a tiny scar on your name. That liar." Yoko scoffed. "Anyway. So, on June 3rd, annual party with sponsors, you arrived together at the hotel. And you left together, too.” Yoko paused, giving him a look as if waiting for him to deny it or something. But that was true, so he nodded. “Somebody claimed they saw you two having an intense dance battle at the parking lot, no receipts. July 22, you were flirting in front of Excel hotel in Tokyo, blurred photos. September 15, PowerMac center, Alto Tritone restaurant, Uchiyama bakeshop, and IKEA Tsuruhama. You two were eyeing some Scandinavian furniture,” Yoko stopped and glanced at him.

  
Atsumu had his palm over the lower part of his face. Whether he was shocked or amused, he couldn’t decide. “That’s… We were… We did some furniture store hopping, yeah. Omi is… Omi is very practical when it comes to gift-giving. We were trying to decide what to give to Bokkun…”

  
“Yeah. So, checking furniture out, you already moved in together at this point.”

  
Atsumu chuckled, “Amazing,”

  
“I know.” Yoko closed the lid of her laptop and returned to her food. “I’ve been pretty much convinced. I started sending him fruits, you know, to thank him for containing you.” 

  
They resumed eating. Atsumu was relieved because at least this wouldn’t come as a total surprise but to be completely honest, Atsumu was a sucker for dramatics so he was also kinda sad because this wouldn’t come as a total surprise. He thought it’d be like a big reveal, but it turned out some people had already manifested this to existence. 

  
“How…” Atsumu pointed at the laptop, “how did you learn about that?”

  
“I have a jackals fan account on Twitter. You and Bokuto have celebrity status now. I run one so I’ll know what’s going on. I could join private group chats for the latest tea and all that. It’s fun. It’s like going undercover.” she took a sip of her drink. “And that discord server has a lot of members, I've been monitoring them, they were very harmless and lowkey. You’ll never catch their asses on Twitter or any social media.”

  
Atsumu nodded. He didn’t exactly know how to react so he just asked the important question, “So, it’s okay?”

  
“Yeah. Do what you both want. I’ll handle the backlash.” she said. "And don't worry about Sakusa. He let you wear his high school varsity jacket last,” she paused and peeped at the screen, “October 4, Atsumu. He knew what he's getting himself into."

  
“Do you think I’ll lose a lot of fans?”

  
He was expecting her to say yes, he’d lose a lot. 

  
But Yoko stared at him and asked, “Does it matter?”

  
Atsumu smiled. “No.”

  
Yoko hummed in approval. “You’ll lose some but you’ll also gain some. I know you care about them, you said so a while ago. Don’t worry, those who'd leave are the bitches that think they stand a chance with you. You’re gonna lose them, that’s just how it goes. But the rest will stay and applaud your bravery,” she said before giving him a small smile, “Bokuto Koutarou already walked so the others could run.”

  
He mirrored her smile as he took a deep breath, finally recovering from the overload of information moments ago. He looked up to the ceiling dramatically, “We’re going to soar.”

  
“Do it.”

  
Atsumu nodded, and then he looked back at Yoko, “And how about the higher-ups?”

  
“I’ll handle them, as usual.”

  
“You’re the best, Yoko.”

  
“I know. But hey,” Yoko said, tapping her phone that was laid on the table with its screen facing down. “Promise me you’ll never send a text as vague as that again, please. I almost had a panic attack this morning.” 

Atsumu just responded with an Okay sign.

  
“Unless there’s a dead body involved,” she added.

  
“You’ll help me hide a dead body, right?” Atsumu chuckled.

  
Yoko rolled her eyes, almost looking offended that Atsumu even had to ask.

* * *

Atsumu knew that he had a slightly flawed reputation, so he still couldn't grasp that there were people who believed he had been dating Sakusa Kiyoomi. _Like, they really thought Omi would date someone like me? I know I'm a catch but?_ To him, Kiyoomi was in the same tier as Akaashi- ethereal beings, while he, he wasn't even Bokuto. _I'm just, I don't know, a typical 25-year-old guy with a bit of a god complex and fast-developing self-deprecating humor._

  
His mind was clouded by these trivial thoughts that when the cab stopped, he mindlessly hopped out and stood in front of Onigiri Miya- Osaka branch.

  
Atsumu had three missions today. The first one was to talk to Yoko which he had just accomplished. The second one was actually more of a recess than a mission= it was to see Osamu. It was like an interlude before the third which was to confess to Kiyoomi properly. 

  
So, to his brother’s office, he went. He didn’t stop walking despite hearing some gasps of recognition from the customers, he just went straight to the office without looking back. Osamu was standing by the window, smiling while talking on the phone but he frowned immediately upon seeing him. 

  
Atsumu took a seat, propped his feet on the table, and made himself comfortable. He watched Osamu as the latter flirt on the phone. He knew his brother was flirting, it was the way Osamu lovingly stared at the cactus by the windowpane as if it was the person he was talking to. Osamu frowned again when they met eyes, giving him a ‘the fuck are you looking at?’ look but Atsumu never uttered a word, he just kept on staring until his brother followed it up with a ‘what are you even doing here?’ look. 

  
The only thought that was going through Atsumu’s head was, _I can’t wait to dodge this motherfucker’s calls later._

  
He never kept a secret as huge as this from his brother but his arrangement with Kiyoomi- it wasn’t just his secret, it was theirs. He never told a single soul about it because it’d feel like going behind Kiyoomi’s back. He’d never break Kiyoomi’s trust even if he was held at gunpoint.

  
Osamu finally got off the phone. He stood in front of Atsumu with his arms crossed.

  
For a brief moment, Atsumu considered telling his brother that he was in love with Kiyoomi, just you know, drop the tiny bomb and see his reaction but the flashback of his stressful childhood because of power fucking absorption was still fresh from his mind, so, no, Osamu didn’t deserve to know his current state of affairs.

  
“Why are you here?”

_Suna’s eyes got a built-in brain scanner- he kinda knows something’s up, but this guy_ , Atsumu looked at his brother, _he doesn’t know shit._

  
“I just wanna see you,” 

  
“See-,” Osamu exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The next time you feel that way just please look in the mirror. You’ll see me there, Tsumu.”

  
“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu dismissed, eyes already trained on the magazine he grabbed from the table. He wasn’t here to drive his brother mad like usual. It was only past three in the afternoon and confessing at this time would be very unromantic. He was here to kill some time. He sat there, minding his own business, pretending to read and looking at the weird wooden shelf on the magazine, while Osamu rounded the table, sitting in his hair and pretending to do some work on his computer. They stole glances at each other from time to time until after half an hour, they caught each other’s eyes. Osamu was eyeing him worriedly, Atsumu looked back bemusedly. “What.”

  
Without missing a beat, “Are you okay?”

  
“Huh? I’m fine.”

  
“You’ve been staring at that page for thirty minutes now,” Osamu said, pointing at the magazine on Atsumu’s lap.

  
“I’m a slow reader, alright,” Atsumu responded defensively. 

“It’s upside-down,” Osamu said. His face was distorted as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  
Atsumu kept his eyes on his brother’s face. “No, it isn’t.” _So that weird-ass shelf is? Maybe a table?_

  
“Take a fucking look,” Osamu was close to crying than laughing.

  
Atsumu closed the magazine without looking. He refused to look at it. He sent it spinning in the air before it landed on the table beside his feet. “It was not. You’re just shitting me,” he said but it fell on deaf ears, Osamu was already typing on his phone, probably texting Suna about it. Atsumu rolled his eyes and stood up but not before gently kicking the stack of magazines off the table. He was petty like that. He made his way out but not before flipping the switches by the door and turning the AC on to 16 DC. Osamu told him to quit it, Atsumu just flipped him off and left.

* * *

  
Seeing his brother did him more bad than good. He went there not only to kill time, he just realized, but to also clear his mind and steady his nerves but what did he get? He got a rude judgment for how he liked to read magazines. 

  
He was on the stairs going up to the apartment when he thought that confessing this all-consuming love he felt for Kiyoomi was not easy, especially when it was scheduled like this. Atsumu could do impromptu. Yeah. He was good at impromptu. And then he remembered, no, he was not. He recalled the tasteless line he had told Kiyoomi last night. A rush of embarrassment and regret washed over him. His palm was on the wall automatically when his knees weakened, then he thought, he was in that same position last night because he was so drunk- hold the fuck up.

  
A thought crossed his mind and almost gave him a heart attack.

  
_Holy shit. What if I was too drunk? What if it’s a fake memory? What if it was all wishful thinking and it didn’t happen and Omi did not tell me to come back-_ And then he thought, _Nahhh, my brain wouldn’t play me like this. It happened. Omi smiled and said ‘Atsumu, babe, let’s do this tomorrow when we’re sober, alright? You’ll say the big words first and I’ll say it back, I promise’_ That was not what Kiyoomi had said but, it was something along those lines.

  
Atsumu took a shower first. He groomed himself perfectly and threw a nice pair of pajamas. He was sure he’d be sleeping at Kiyoomi’s, there was no helping it, they were too used to sleeping together by now.

  
He stood in front of Apartment 204 at five-thirty in the afternoon, smiling to himself as he reminisced about the first couple of times he had stood there. The times that he was denied entry, the times that Kiyoomi had opened the door and instantly looked disgusted upon seeing him - Atsumu deadass experienced what it was like to have the point of view of a bird poop before having the door slammed in his face. 

  
But now he had a key.

  
He took a deep breath, psyching himself up. He felt lightheaded and nervous and giddy thinking Kiyoomi felt the same. They were a few minutes away from being boyfriends.

_I need to get rid of my verbal diarrhea because Kiyoomi wanted a proper and sober confession- wait._

  
_He isn’t expecting me to go all poetic, is he? What if he’s expecting two pages of written essay- front and back- about how I adore his voice and his warm hugs in the morning? He isn’t expecting me to perform Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet Act 2 Scene 2, is he?_

  
Atsumu panicked and was about to chicken out but he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to his right and came face to face with a man standing beside him. The man was taller than him and was holding a box, which reminded Atsumu that he came empty-handed, was he supposed to bring something? _Flowers? Balloons? Balloon animals?_

  
_This is it,_ Atsumu thought, _I have lost my cool and all my brain cells ever since I fell in love. They are right. Love makes people stupid._

  
The door swung open. Kiyoomi took the package and thanked the delivery man. He held the door open for Atsumu but he was clearly out of it, he just stood there, unmoving. Kiyoomi grabbed his ear and pulled him inside.

  
All the lights were off. Kiyoomi laid the small package on the floor near the balcony, Atsumu made himself useful by drawing the curtains, letting in as much light as possible. Kiyoomi grabbed a scissor and a sanitizer before sitting on the floor. Atsumu couldn’t help but smile. Kiyoomi’s face was too intense for someone who was just unboxing a small package. 

  
The sun was already setting outside. Atsumu leaned against the kitchen counter and watched the reflection of the sunset’s changing colors on Kiyoomi’s face. It started with a gorgeous shade of yellow. This shade reminded Atsumu of the glances they had stolen at each other on Kiyoomi’s first day as a Jackal. Curious, swift, casual.

  
The next shade was deep mustard, almost orange. This one reminded him of those accidental eye contact when they were in the same room or in the middle of a game and their eyes were roaming but suddenly fleeted at each other at the same time. It happened again and again, it happened more frequently, the subtle and momentary became bold and lengthy, hesitant became challenging, sometimes followed by a raised brow or a chin stuck out while Atsumu had always just smiled before looking away. 

  
The fiery orange hue washes over Kiyoomi’s face next. It was the lingering stares, significant and intimate. It was the moment when they meet each other’s eyes, witnessing the expressions on their faces turn soft before a kiss. This was exactly the most captivating hue, the color that had the power to drag moths into a flame. This was the look they shared every time they climbed new heights with their bodies moving as one, it was every time he told Kiyoomi to hold his breath to make sure they arrived at the peak together.

  
Kiyoomi had already put the box and the bubble wrap away. He also had fetched a dark green bottle from under the kitchen sink. He was back on the floor near the balcony, carefully laying the bottle in front of him. He picked up the content of the package, which looked like a spiral wire, Atsumu couldn’t quite see because the sun had almost set. It promptly felt like he was running out of time, the hue had been the color of fire but now it was red with a mixture of purple and blue and it was changing dramatically. The pre-twilight sky must be so beautiful outside but he was in the kitchen, stuck in a moment staring at the person he loved, and if this breathtaking hue would later remind him of something, Atsumu decided that it’d be the look Kiyoomi would give him after hearing the words that he was about to say.

  
“I love you,” Atsumu said. Kiyoomi looked up and smiled. “Omi, I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

  
Kiyoomi just smiled wider and beckoned him to come closer. Atsumu sat on the floor, his eyes still trained on Kiyoomi’s face. Kiyoomi’s attention was on his stupid wine bottle, tweaking something in the mouth of it and Atsumu was getting impatient, the sight of the bottle started to infuriate him because c’mon, he just laid himself bare, the sun was gone, and he hadn’t got an I love you back.

  
“Omi, say it back.” Atsumu kind of demanded.

  
“Hang on,”

  
“Omiiiiiii,” Atsumu whined. It was dark and he couldn’t see Kiyoomi’s face anymore.

  
But suddenly he could. He heard a click and then there was light between them. It was coming from the bottle, and upon a closer look, Atsumu saw specks of light inside. 

  
“I’ve told this bottle a lot of secrets, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi smiled, his face illuminated by soft green light. “There were times I considered throwing this away but I couldn’t. This thing knows too much about me now.” Kiyoomi clicked his tongue, “Guess I’ll keep this hostage forever. Plus I’m going to hit you in the head with this bottle if you ever cheat on me, or something.” he grabbed the front of Atsumu’s shirt, “Because I love you, too. I’m fucking in love with you. You’re officially mine now.”

  
Atsumu chuckled, touching the bottle, his premature hatred toward it dissipating. His eyes turned glassy and the lights looked like a poor quality photo of fireworks taken using a calculator. He tried to blink the blur away, instantly seeing drops of tears on the wooden floor as he did. He would never forgive himself for crying, what the actual fuck, but it’d be fine as long as he kept his mouth shut. _Just keep quiet and don’t say stupid stuff_ \- “Omi, I really wanna raise a dog with you,” _fuck._

  
“A dog? All of a sudden? Wait, are you crying right now?” Kiyoomi laughed. “You’re such a loser.”

  
Atsumu sniffed, “No. I’m not- I’m not cryi- WHAT about you, huh? You kept this.” he raised the bottle. “Were you doomed since June?”

  
Kiyoomi didn’t respond to that. He stood up, refusing to acknowledge Atsumu’s existence and disappearing into the balcony while Atsumu stayed on the floor, smiling to himself as he admired the encapsulated lights. 

  
Shortly afterward, Atsumu followed Kiyoomi outside. He stood beside Kiyoomi whose eyes were cast heavenward. He elbowed him gently to get his attention, “Someday, I’ll take us to a place where we can see the stars.”

  
Kiyoomi hummed and held his hand. 

* * *

_**I spent the entire afternoon on discord.** _

_**This thing didn’t start in March. It started way back in Feb when Raijin’s libero posted a video of him eating YOUR cookies** _

  
_Attached [15-sec video, IG story, February 16,]_

_Video caption: NOT AT ME EATING SAKUSA KIYOOMI’S VALENTINE COOKIES LOL_

**[** _The video starts with a view of a volleyball game on TV, then it shifts to Kiyoomi who’s sitting on the sofa, then it zooms out and shifts to the kitchen counter, a hand picking two cookies before closing the box- the box that has Atsumu’s fan club’s logo, then the camera shifts to Motoya’s face as he gobbles up the sweets._ **]**

  
_**Hit me up before posting anything okayy** _

* * *

  
“All I’m saying is, what if last night was just a dream, you know? Like, I accepted it unquestioningly that time but now, suddenly, it seems like a fake memory.” Atsumu told Kiyoomi as they walked to the gym the next morning. “Like, you? THE Sakusa Kiyoomi? Told me that you’re fucking in love with me? That’s kinda sketchy, don’t you think? What if it’s maladaptive daydreaming, huh?”

  
Kiyoomi tugged and raised their hands. “Atsumu we are literally holding hands right now. In Public,” he said, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

  
Atsumu beamed, putting their intertwined hands back into the pocket of his coat. “So, it did happen, huh,” he said and laughed when Kiyoomi looked like he was considering breaking up with him. “Omi, please don’t break up with me,” Atsumu said jokingly but the look Kiyoomi gave him was too grim.

  
“What do you mean break-up?” Kiyoomi asked. They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Atsumu instantly felt terrible, he was ready to take it back but Kiyoomi spoke again. “I like seeing things through to the end. And this,” he gestured between the two of them. “It’s either death or divorce,” he said, his face all serious. Only when Atsumu’s face broke into a toothy grin did Kiyoomi absorb what he just said. Kiyoomi pulled his hand off of Atsumu’s and began to walk ahead.

  
“Ehehe, did you just propose to me?” Atsumu teased, delighted, his jaw slightly aching as he smiled too wide. _This is us_ , he thought. _I can’t wait for the world to know how awesome and cool and loud and weird and wonderful we are_. Finally, he was now allowed to bring this chaos outside the comfort of their apartments. He chuckled loudly before he set off jogging to catch up with Kiyoomi. “Omi-omi, I’m saying yes!”

* * *

Meian was already in the locker room when they arrived. Atsumu had already got Kiyoomi’s consent to go public last night but Atsumu decided he’d let the team know first. 

  
Atsumu wasted no time. He sat beside Meain who was currently tying his laces. 

  
“Kiyoomi and I are in a romantic relationship,” he said without any foreword, preamble whatsoever.

  
Meian stared at him. “...what”

  
“Hi. Good Morning.” Atsumu greeted. “I said Kiyoomi and I are dating.”

  
For a moment, Meian just stared blankly at him. “...seriously?”

  
“Yeah.” Atsumu was confused. He expected Meian to laugh and tell him it was a good joke like how he imagined a few months ago. But Meian looked like Atsumu had just told him some bad news. “I mean, yeah. We confessed and all.”

  
Meian looked at Kiyoomi as if waiting for him to deny Atsumu’s claims, but Kiyoomi just let out an affirmative grunt. Meian nodded and congratulated them, tapping their backs and wishing them all the best. And then Meian fetched his wallet and pulled out some cash. Kiyoomi and Atsumu watched as Meian opened Inunaki’s locker, gently placing the bills there before he absently walked out of the locker room.

  
Atsumu and Kiyoomi shared a look.

  
They changed clothes and got ready for practice. Assuming that Meian had already told Inunaki, and Inunaki had already told the team, Atsumu and Kiyoomi stalled in the locker room for a while, sitting next to each other, sharing a box of strawberry flavored Pocky that Atsumu took from Inunaki’s locker. They watched their teammates arrive one by one, all of them threw bills in Inunaki’s locker- including Hinata Shouyou. Atsumu shook his head at him disappointedly, not because he participated in the bet, but because, “I can’t believe you underestimated my charm, Shouyou-kun.” Hinata sighed as he let go of his money. He congratulated them genuinely before taking off.

  
Even coach Foster came in with bills in hand, “Where’s,” he didn’t bother finishing his question, by now it was obvious where the libero’s locker was, what with its door widely open. Their coach dropped his money inside and gave them a thumbs up.

  
Bokuto, though. Only Bokuto came in without a sour expression on his face. He just looked so happy as he gathered them in his arms and gave them a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you, guys.” he squeezed them one more time before letting go. They waited for Bokuto to drop some money, too, but it didn’t happen. When they asked why, “Keiji can smell storylines.” Bokuto laughed and waved a hand. “He said you reek of barely-there angst. And sex.”

* * *

**Yoko-chan~**

  
It wasn’t until they were already at home, lounging and getting their nightly dose of bad tv that Atsumu finally remembered to break the news to everyone.

  
**Okayyy**

  
He kind of felt bad for Yoko. He knew she was going to stay up late to monitor the reactions online, to check articles, take down what needed to be taken down, and also to respond to their bosses. She had always made him feel that she got his back and Atsumu couldn’t help but be emotional, he sent her a long ass text about how grateful he was and that she deserved a month-long vacation to South Korea- (he knew she was obsessed with Kpop) and so he promised her a VIP ticket next time an idol comes to town, to which she just responded with,

  
**K thanks**

  
and

  
** Btw take good care of Sakusa **

** he’s my favorite jackal **

  
Atsumu wasn’t even jealous because, _relatable_. He let it go and busied himself, thinking of ways to tell people that he was off the market. His drafts on Twitter were not dramatic enough, some were too straightforward. Now, he kinda wanted to let them know had been banging his teammate since June without exactly telling them that he had been banging his teammate since June. 

  
He opened his camera, it was directed to his right foot. He was wearing white fuzzy socks and thought it was cute, he started recording. He zoomed the camera on his foot, wiggling his toes and lifting it. His foot fumbled the hem of someone’s sweatshirt before it successfully slipped inside, toes stroking that someone’s ribs. That person grabbed his ankle, pulled his leg straight before placing it on his lap. Atsumu zoomed the camera out, showing Kiyoomi whose attention was on the TV. “Omi~” Atsumu called affectionately to which Kiyoomi, his boyfriend, responded with a deadpan, “What.” without looking at him. Atsumu thought it was perfect. He cropped the video to 30 seconds, showed it to Kiyoomi before posting it on his IG story. He remembered the conspiracy theory- he had told Kiyoomi about it last night- and laughed to himself. “If the photo of us in front of Scandinavian-style furniture is enough proof we moved in together, then this video is enough to warrant our marriage. They’ll think we already have three kids.”

  
_**Is that okay** _

**_Should I post another one lol_ **

  
** _That video called me single in 5 languages_ **

  
_That’s enough, then._

  
Atsumu immediately changed his ringtone to the chorus of Versace on the Floor and laid his phone on the table in front of them. He was waiting for his brother, or anyone, to call so he could start stripping. Last night, he and Kiyoomi just aggressively cuddled and smiled at each other all night, it had been sufficient but now Atsumu wanted to make love to his boyfriend. 

  
Ten minutes later, his phone started ringing and vibrating, Osamu’s name flashing on the screen. Atsumu stood up, took his shirt off, and danced- old school gigolo style- to Versace on the Floor. His phone rang nonstop, it was more than fine, he wasn’t tired of doing body rolls yet, anyway. He wondered if they’d finally have sober sex tonight. He gazed at Kiyoomi seductively, Kiyoomi stared back, disgusted. Atsumu was not about to give up, though. He danced in front of Kiyoomi, taking the latter’s hands and placing them on his abs but eventually yelped when Kiyoomi grabbed his balls, instead.

* * *

**Early December, Coffee shop somewhere in Osaka**

  
“They are the worst,” Inunaki Shion told the Raijins, “the fucking worst, I’m telling you.”

  
Suna Rintarou, who was sitting across him, eating waffles, and Motoya Komori, sitting between them, drinking latte, asked him to elaborate.

  
“They’re bullies.” Inunaki took a sip of his coffee and sulk. “I can’t believe I expended so much effort to put them together only to get bullied. And I’m older than them!” he huffed.

  
“So much effort?” Suna scoffed. “You invented an article that caused chaos, that’s it.”

  
“Hey,” Inunaki leaned back, “It’s because this guy,” he pointed at Motoya, “told me to do something,” he said, defensively. “And I was tired of seeing Sakusa face the wall every time he took off his shirt just to hide the hickeys on his chest. And Atsumu,” Inunaki snorted and pointed at Suna, “your future brother in law was too obvious. He had been thirsting over Sakusa since time immemorial. The rest of the team never noticed but me,” he raised two fingers, pointing at his eyes, “I see everything. I knew they were fucking like rabbits way before you contacted me.”

  
“But still, the article was a bad idea,” Suna said. “What if they fact-checked it?”

  
“True,” Motoya agreed.

  
“They didn’t.” Inunaki said and squinted his eyes at the Raijins, “How about you, huh? Zero contributions, both of you.”

  
“Excuse me?” Motoya gasped, “Imagine receiving texts that ranged from _I’m about to die, I’m dying, I woke up and chose death,_ and _I’m officially dead_ from Sakusa Kiyoomi. It was just him gay panicking but I was horrified. I believe I played a key role in keeping him sane.” Motoya proudly said. And then they turned to Suna.

  
Suna rolled his eyes, “I rebooted Atsumu’s brain,” he said lazily, “And saved him from alcoholism.”

  
“That,” Motoya tilted his head, “I don’t understand that part.” The other two shrugged.

  
They talked about other things; game schedules, Suna’s wedding, the rumor about MSBY proposing max contract to Bokuto, Sakusa and Atsumu, Atsumu’s fans calling him a Simp (for Sakusa), Ushijima’s never-changing hairstyle, Argentina’s Oikawa Tooru, and the athletic trainer fresh from California- who the Raijin’s entire PR staff had been crushing on- Iwaizumi Hajime.

  
And then Suna veered back to their previous topic, “What kind of bullying have you experienced?”

  
Inunaki clicked his tongue, “They took my money.” he said, frowning, “Bokuto’s birthday, at the bar, the moment Atsumu left I made a bet with the entire team, long story short, those two decided to go public on the day I was running late to practice. The money from the team was in my locker and they were there, Atsumu at Sakusa, in the locker room waiting for me.” Inunaki paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, face sporting a pained expression, “They made me count the money. And then they took it.”

  
The Raijins burst out laughing.

  
Motoya was wheezing, tapping the table loudly, not caring about the attention they were gaining from people around them while Suna was cackling, typing on his phone, his thumb moving quickly over the screen, probably telling his fiance about Inunaki’s rotten luck.

  
“Laugh all you want now but you will understand why I said they’re the worst couple ever. Can’t wait for you to meet and see the person that they have become.”

* * *

  
**Mid December**

  
“This is your last game for this year before the holiday break and you guys have the best ranking so far with 13-1. How do you guys do it?”

  
Atsumu stood in front of the camera. He was in dire need of water but he was pulled for a quick post-game interview right after the final whistle. “Uhm, we trained hard, we keep on training hard and do our best every time we step on the court.”

  
“Bokuto Koutarou was on fire today,” the reporter said before pointing the mic back to him.

  
“Everyone played great, the Rockets, too. But yeah, Bokkun just loves playing against them. He turns into a different breed of monster every time we play Kiryu’s team. They have this friendly rivalry going on and…” Atsumu looked to his left, seeing Kiyoomi walking towards him, his hair was damp with sweat, his skin glowing and Atsumu just stared and completely forgot that he was on camera. Kiyoomi handed him bottled water, put a towel on his shoulder, and walked past behind him. Atsumu followed him with his eyes, shamelessly checking his boyfriend out.

  
“Miya?”

  
“Huh?”

  
The reporter smiled. “Tell me about Sakusa Kiyoomi. How is he as a boyfriend?”

  
Atsumu grinned, “He’s perfect,” he said and followed it up with an unnecessary laugh. He couldn’t help it. He’d always go a little bit insane every time they were addressed as boyfriends. He still couldn’t believe it.

  
“Is he romantic?”

  
They never did a proper interview. They confirmed their relationship the next morning after posting that IG story, they received a pintsize backlash, conspiracy theorists partied all day and dominated Twitter, Atsumu continued dumping pictures of them on social media, they got invited to talk shows for a proper interview but they refused, so he kind of understood why people were curious about them, about Kiyoomi, particularly. 

  
“He's romantic, yeah. Sometimes. He’s intermittent romantic.”

  
“Intermittent?”

  
“It’s a hit or miss every day, you know. And that’s what keeps our relationship exciting.”

  
“We can see that you’re crazy about him,” the reporter said in a good-humored tone.

  
Atsumu laughed and started stepping back, “Really? I’ve been keeping this low key. What gave me away?” he was already out of the screen. The reporter laughed and congratulated him again.

  
He saw Bokuto doing an interview, he considered crashing it but he saw Kiyoomi doing one, too, near the tunnel. Kiyoomi must be distressed, he was so close to the tunnel but got stopped for an interview. Kiyoomi hated interviews. Atsumu rushed to save his boyfriend but to his disbelief, Kiyoomi didn’t look distressed at all. His expression was neutral and he was talking about Atsumu, too.

  
“He’s the worst. One over ten. Would not recommend.” 

  
The innocent reporter became the embodiment of confusion. She was not prepared or aware of Kiyoomi’s sense of humor.

  
“He said I’m amazing and that he’s extremely fond of me,” Atsumu said, putting Kiyoomi’s arm around his shoulder. 

  
The reporter recovered and smiled. She lowered her cue card, she was about to go off-script. “You guys are spending the holidays together, I assume. You have three weeks before the games resume next year. What are your plans for Christmas and New Year?”

  
“Christmas in Hyogo,” Kiyoomi said.

  
“New Year in Tokyo,” Atsumu added. 

  
_The days in between will be spent in our apartments, we’re going to have sex three times a day, and were going to post a lot of cute photos that’ll make single people cry in spanish-_

  
“Well, I’m sure Miya is going to keep us posted via Instagram so I won't ask any more questions. Congratulations on your win today. Have a great holiday,”

  
“Thank you,” Kiyoomi said.

  
“You, too,” Atsumu managed to say to the reporter before he was dragged away by Kiyoomi.

* * *

**December 24**

  
“Tonkatsu sauce,” Atsumu read out loud.

  
Kiyoomi took a bottled sauce from the cupboard and laid it on the dining table, “Okay,”

  
“Green peppers, onions, carrots,” Atsumu paused, waiting for Kiyoomi who was crouching in front of the fridge. Kiyoomi pulled all three from his fridge. “You have a fucking carrot?” Atsumu chuckled.

  
“I’m surprised, too,” Kiyoomi said, laying those on the table along with other ingredients. 

  
Atsumu turned to the cookbook, he couldn’t quite read the last ingredient. “Omi, come here for a second,” Kiyoomi stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, “Can you read this?”

  
“Atsumu, that’s your grandmother’s handwriting.”

  
“I know, I know, but look.”

  
“Isn’t that like,” Kiyoomi leaned forward to take a closer look, “A brand of wine?”

  
“Oh, right!” Atsumu exclaimed. “This thing needs Sake. But maybe Nana uses this specific wine.” he said, elbowing Kiyoomi, “We have Sake, though. That’ll do.” 

“They’re bringing fried chicken,” Kiyoomi said and Atsumu could almost feel the competitiveness oozing out of his boyfriend’s body. When he looked back, Kiyoomi was already off grabbing his car keys. “Take a photo of that page and let’s go.” They made a last-minute trip to the liquor store.

* * *

“This tastes amazing, oh my god!” Atsumu’s mother took another spoonful of their Sobameshi, “Kiyoomi, you cooked this perfectly.”

  
“I helped,” Atsumu interrupted- to be completely honest, he was the one who cooked it, his boyfriend was useless in the kitchen but he’d let Kiyoomi take credit for now.

  
His mother completely ignored his ass, her eyes were fixed only on Kiyoomi. “I can almost see flashes of my childhood. I always asked mom to cook this when I was young. I’m gonna be honest with you, I did not expect much but wow, this tastes exactly like my mother’s cooking.” Atsumu’s mother beamed at Kiyoomi. “I’m gonna go get her,”

  
With that, his mother left to call Nana. Atsumu and Kiyoomi did a low five under the table and only then he noticed his brother squinting at him. Atsumu and Kiyoomi sat next to each other, Suna and Osamu were seated in front of them- their fried chicken was on the table, disregarded.

  
Suna leaned to his left, his lips brushing over Osamu’s shoulder as he spoke. “They have the cookbook,” he mumbled quietly but loud enough to be heard, and then he gave them an accusing look.

  
“We checked Tsumu’s place. It wasn't there.”

  
Suna’s eyes traveled from Osamu, to Atsumu, and then to Kiyoomi. Suna held long eye contact with Kiyoomi and then in slow-motion, he mouthed, “You, bitch,”

  
Atsumu’s eyes widened. He knew Kiyoomi and Suna met a couple of times already, and he knew they exchanged friendly banters a lot, but he was not sure if Kiyoomi was comfortable enough and if Kiyoomi could roll with these kinds of jabs from Suna Rintarou. Atsumu turned to Kiyoomi, afraid that his boyfriend got offended but the latter kept a straight face. He was looking Suna dead in the eyes, and then he stuck his tongue out. Kiyoomi stuck his fucking tongue out at Suna.

  
Atsumu decided then and there, _I’m going to marry this guy._

* * *

**Suna** : Okay maybe they really are the worst

 **Inunaki** : I told you???

 **Motoya** : lol

* * *

Christmas Eve went smoothly. They spent time sharing stories over dinner. His father was quiet, observing them with a tiny smile on his face. His mother was talkative, as usual, telling Kiyoomi about their family’s inside jokes while Nana was openly staring at Kiyoomi, she seemed a bit fascinated by his curls.

  
Later that night, Kiyoomi pointed at a DVD from his mother’s collection of Chinese movies. His mother loved foreign films, she watched everything that had subtitles.

  
“That movie is the reason why I have a wine bottle filled with fairy lights in my living room,” Kiyoomi whispered to him.

  
“That movie is the reason why you’ve been so head over heels for me since June,” Atsumu whispered back.

  
Kiyoomi stepped on his foot and walked away.

* * *

  
**January 3**

“All eyes are on us, Omi” Atsumu said, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. “They probably wondering why we’re wearing suits just to pick up our daughter,”

  
They stood outside the two-storey building of The Ballet Garden. Parents were waiting by the entrance, they were all taking turns in giving them a curious glance.

  
They were on their way to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum a while ago when Kiyoomi’s sister called, asking if they could pick her daughter up and babysit her until she comes back from an emergency meeting. 

  
They had this date- their first date planned out, Atsumu brought a suit to Tokyo and all- Kiyoomi wanted them to suit up- but due to a sudden turn of events, he reckoned they were going to cancel. 

  
“We’re going back to Osaka tomorrow morning,” Kiyoomi said, dialing on his phone, “So we need to go to the Museum today,” he added before making a call. “Where are you?” Kiyoomi pulled Atsumu’s right hand from his pocket and intertwined their fingers. They left their coats in the car, they were about to freeze to death but Atsumu instantly felt warm all over, he squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “I didn’t ask if you’re on a date or not, I’m asking where you are. Right now.” A pause, and then he nodded, “Okay.” 

  
Kiyoomi ended the call and pocketed his phone. Kids started to flood the lobby, it wasn’t long before his niece came into view. She jumped as she caught sight of them, specifically Atsumu, her tutu skirt flapping up and down.

  
“She looks so fucking adorable, Omi. Let’s take her with us!” Atsumu said, already crouching down, his arms wide open, waiting as she ran towards him.

  
“Nahh.” Kiyoomi said, “I already booked someone to babysit her.”

  
  


* * *

  
**Motoya** : ………….

 **Inunaki** : i told you??

 **Suna** : lol

* * *

  


These past weeks had been really good to Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

  
He and Kiyoomi had signed a deal with Samsung; their team had the best ranking on the league so far; he scored three dumps under Tobio’s nose the last time they played the Adlers; his social media followers increased by thirty percent; Atsumu told Kiyoomi he loved him every day since they got together and Kiyoomi said it back at least twice a week and that was more than enough. That was already too much, actually. It was a good thing Kiyoomi was an intermittent romantic because Atsumu would not be able to handle it if he was like that all the time.

  
Atsumu tilted his head up, watching the sun blinked between the trees as he pondered about the recent happenings in his life. He felt like everything was falling into place.No negative thoughts were creeping at the back of his mind this time.

  
His alone time with his pleasant thoughts, however, was interrupted when he heard Kiyoomi grumbling from a distance. Atsumu looked ahead and saw Kiyoomi approaching, and as he got closer, his voice became louder and clearer. He grumbled about how Atsumu was the most insufferable human being, how Atsumu was so demanding, and how he wanted to smack Atsumu’s head upside down. Atsumu was so used to this, those kinds of words had long begun to sound nice. Those words sounded like Bella’s lullaby, now. The Twilight soundtrack version.

  
“I had to walk two blocks to get this, Atsumu. Am I required to get you this every time we go on a date?”

  
Atsumu accepted the vanilla ice cream in a waffle cone. “Yes.”

  
“Ugh,” Kiyoomi grunted and rolled his eyes at him, but then he grabbed Atsumu’s other hand as they walked towards the Museum. “You have the tickets, right?”

  
Atsumu hummed. After a while, he asked, “Omi when do you wanna get married? Like, what month?”

  
“It’s been only a month since we got together. Isn’t it too early to talk about that?” 

  
They kept quiet for a moment and continued to walk slowly, taking their time.

  
Atsumu asked not because he was in a hurry. He asked because he liked to imagine the future. He already knew Kiyoomi’s preference when it comes to houses, what kind of birds he wanted to raise, what he’d name their future dog, and what he’d do after he retired. But Kiyoomi never talked, and Atsumu never asked about weddings, yet. This was the first time.

  
Right after they walked past the gates of the Museum, Kiyoomi tugged his hand.

  
“June.”

  
Atsumu looked up and smiled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it I guess T__T 43k words for sakuatsu  
> Pls do drop comments ^^ but  
> any harsh feedback pls just send to my  
> newly recovered [CC](https://curiouscat.me/ssandy_)  
> or dm me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/miya_kiyoomii?s=09)  
> and if u have a fav moment/ scene pls do write down below ^^
> 
> Thank you for all your kind words to me. Again I'm sorry for the bad grammar English is my 4th language u guys T__T 
> 
> PS  
> *hinata was not offered a max contract bc he's going overseas i forgot to include that,  
> *max contract is an nba term idk of they use that on VB i always imagine Foster having Gregg Popovich vibe- he deadass be trolling sometimes, while Kiyoomi has Klay's humor during interviews  
> *11 minutes from chapter 6 i chose 11 because of Paulo Coelho's book called eleven minutes  
> *i named grandma miya "NANA" because that's what Ross and Monica calls their grandma as I kinda imagine atsumu and Osamu having similar dynamics as them sometimes. And also kuroo as chandler and Bokuto as Joey im making a friends au im manifesting it rn  
> *and to the one who said chapter 4 was like watching a movie, you made my entire month already, thankyou so much  
> *and to those who shared the link of this fic/rec this on twitter, i see you all and i am very thankful  
> *and to cherrybomb_su on twitter thankyou for these v v [cute graphics!!](https://twitter.com/miya_kiyoomii/status/1359819838386892804?s=19)


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